Temper
by bloody.pinprick
Summary: 'Psychopathic' Leila Marie Hill is living an average life and she's not happy with it. But when her cousin's murderer is killed by Kira, she decides to go to Japan to watch the Kira case progress. Little does she know that she has the potential to affect the Kira case...or to be affected by it. Contains spoilers; doesn't follow canon. Possible LxOC. Raw. MAY BE DISCONTINUED
1. Breaking Point

_I can't say it was entirely a shock to me when it happened._

_Beyond Birthday died of a heart attack._

January 21, 2004. The only reason I even know the date was because I can see it in the bottom-right corner of my monitor. Not that it seems important. It is, after all, just another Saturday, and I'm enjoying the rest from school. Even though school isn't hard, I hate it. The people are stupid, the teachers unwilling to present a challenge. The building smells like hair spray and sweaty socks. And I am still remembered as that girl who lost her cousin.

Senior year. Soon, I could ditch that place, that time. I'd go to college and abandon the hellhole I called my hometown.

But, more importantly, surfing the web is a great way to start the day, in my mind. My homepage is this crappy left-wing news site, but I find it entertaining and read a lot of the articles. As I yawn and brush my strawberry-blonde hair out of my eyes with one hand, I type in my email adress and password into the login box at the top of the screen with the other hand. Since I'm being lazy, it took me almost 40 seconds before I'm logged in and beginning the process of checking my email.

As usual, I have about a billion emails that were unread, and as usual, I only read the ones from colleges and my aunt. My parents haven't emailed me since they'd left for their vacation (to the Bahamas...during the school year. And without me, of course...) and I never read their emails anyways. they lived in the same house as me, and if they wanted to say something, they should do it in person.

_College… college… college. Oh, here's one from Aunt… _I think to myself, filtering the information I was reading; separating the important and interesting away from the useless. Aunt's will probably be discarded because it's very usually mundane, but I always read and reply out of courtesy. I know it's been hard on her since Queenie died.

* * *

**Quinn Queen (**q-queen2002)

to me

Leila. **Click here**

* * *

I blink at the oddly short email and the bright white of the screen flashes against my eyelids. The lack of words, gossip, and lamenting over her late daughter is, of course, shocking. Here emails are generally so full of those that I've begun to think they're the buildup of her entire life. But as usual, I read her email. I click the link, feeling almost relieved. It will be some online version of a tabloid article, all about such-and-such a celebrity and how their behavior seems to suggest that Celebrity Such 'n Such is gay.

My thoughts are interrupted when I see the headline. How could they not be? My head, always so clear, so focused, becomes muddled. Celebrity, indeed.

**Beyond Birthday, Convicted Murderer of Three, Dies of Mysterious Heart Attack: Kira at Work**

The man who brutally murdered my cousin and desecrated her body, is dead. Killed by the psychotic "Kira" who we all found out about in May last year.

I'm not certain how to feel about it.

It's a terrible thing to say, but I'm not particularly attached to people. I never have been, to anyone, really. This includes my cousin. I knew her pretty well even though I only saw her once or twice a year, but I had no more love for Quarter Queen than I have for any other person. Certainly, her death at the age of thirteen was a horrible injustice, and I understand that. I feel anger that someone was killed, that anyone was killed, but I have few if any personal feelings about her death.

I feel the same way about the death of this man. Beyond Birthday. His name rings through my head. I know every detail of his case that I could scrape together, including the fact that he has already been punished by the law. He was serving a life sentence, rightfully and legally so, and the fact that someone out there had decided to take things into their own hands made me angry. Basically, as unfortunate and disgusting as it is, my feelings about Beyond's and Queenie's murders are basically the same: a hint of anger, irritation.

By the, I'm not sure if I mentioned it, but my name is Leila Marie Hill. You'd never guess it based off of my name, but I truly am the cousin of Quarter Queen, the second victim of Beyond Birthday. I have no idea what I want to do with my future… or at least, I didn't. But now, I'm going to put my five years of Japanese classes to use. Kira's in Japan, as the ever mysterious sleuth L revealed last May, and somehow, I want to be there when he's arrested.

* * *

**Quick author's note here:**

**This is my first time writing a fan-fiction, so I apologize for my lack of experience. I'm currently experimenting with some writing styles, but I will try to stay fairly consistent within this story.**

**Please note that the dates and times I use are found in the manga/Another Note, and all other times were probably guesses. If you notice anything that's not accurate, feel free to let me know.**

**I know the first chapter was pretty boring, sorry! This was mostly a chance for me to work on who Leila is as a character, but I promise the next chapter will be much more interesting.**

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for any critique/comments if you'd like to offer them.**


	2. My Turn

**Adding the third chapter momentarily! It should start getting a bit more exciting soon.**

* * *

It's nearly the summer now. After almost a month of thinking about it but not doing anything, My idea of going to Japan fades away along with so many others. But criminals keep dying, and it becomes a daily reminder to me that I want to know who Kira is, and I want to be in Japan when he's arrested. And besides, I can't change my mind. I arranged ages ago for me to take the exam to get into one of the schools there, and it's already been determined that I'm going.

For once, even my father thinks what I am doing is brilliant. He tells me that putting all those wasted hours of Japanese lessons was rather excellent, and he thinks it'll be a good experience for me to be overseas for a while. Something like that, anyways. Dad doesn't see it, but I roll my dark brown eyes. He's just happy that he won't have to deal with me while I'm gone, and everyone knows it.

As it is, it doesn't matter whether he likes the idea or not. I'm leaving for Japan today with the smallest amount of supplies I could pack along with a considerable amount of money from my parents. It's to be used to furnish my apartment and to buy some more clothes, but not anything else. Mom's cranky and is nagging at me to get a job as soon as possible even as I board the plane.

I know it will be some time before I arrive in Japan, which becomes a great pain to me when the other passengers begin to chatter loudly on top of the music and movies in the background. Even the man beside me - tall, balding, and dressed in comfortable attire that doesn't suit him in the least - because to jabber absentmindedly. I'm not sure if he's talking to himself or me, but it isn't at all interesting and I quickly tune him out.

The only tolerable thing about my circumstances is that the 13-hour flight will provide plenty of time for me to ponder on...well, everything. For instance, I have no way of knowing the future, but the decision to come to Japan could very well make or break all, I've chosen to leave behind my continent, my family, and everything I grew up with...not to mention all the easier paths I could have taken simply by staying in the US. All of the adjustments I will have to make now will certainly affect my psyche, and in turn my attitude and favor. That, in turn, could change how people see me.

I come to the realization that now is no time to doubt myself. The decisions I have made are final, thanks to all the money and time I've spent assuring my comfortable life in Japan. At the same time, it's hard not to wonder what might become of me, and what might have been different if I'd stayed at home.

Is Kira worth all of this, really? It's the final question that comes to mind, but it resonates throughout my body. And to tell the truth, I'm not certain they are, but satisfying the dreadful sense of curiosity that's plagued me since the death of Beyond Birthday certainly is. Five months of curiosity over the death of a disgusting murderer...as much as I know I shouldn't care, I can't shake the feeling.

My jaw pops in an almost painful fashion as I chew the gum that I always take on flights: just plain old Trident. It hardly tastes like anything anymore, but I don't want to spit it out and keep it in my mouth anyways.

Funny how such a small amount of pain can bring one back to the present.

What am I doing? This is a useless waste of time. I should get some sleep…

And that was my last coherent thought before I drifted off. Planes do that to me.

* * *

The flight goes smoothly and ultimately ends with me arriving in Japan and wandering around with a bookbag. The bookbag has enough stuff for one night and that means I'll doing some serious shopping tomorrow. It doesn't matter, though. My parents gave me the money and it would look strange for any 17-year-old girl to be wandering around the city streets with a suitcase. I did get some weird looks after I got out of a cab on my own, but I'm close to my apartment and don't mind the walk, even with all the weird looks and my luggage (if you can even call it that).

In the couple of minutes it takes to reach my new home, I do some people watching. It's one of my favorite things...always has been.

* * *

My apartment building almost looks like an American hotel on the outside. Everything is blank, the door a dull wood with a plastic room number penned on to it. "Hill" has been inserted into a slot to the left of the door. I dig the key out of my pocket and jam it into the lock, jiggling it around a little before I hear it unlock. I open the door to a fairly spacious room. It's completely empty, the walls devoid of decoration. The hardwood flooring is a pretty brown and the walls are painted a pretty green so pale that it's almost white. I know that there's a small bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom, but that's all I really need and I am satisfied with the first place I'll ever be alone.

I glance out the window, devastated that my change in time zone means the night's not yet here. I'm totally exhausted and really to collapse into bed, and I picked this apartment because, although it appears bare, all the most basic furniture seems to come with the territory. The owner told me he'd be dropping off some furniture this evening, so if I pick up some bedsheets and food, I should be okay.

It seems that I'm feeling overdramatic, because it causes me a great feeling of grief to leave the apartment, especially since I don't even know where any of the shops are. In spite of how tired I am, it seems that I'll be doing a bit of wandering around today. And since I'm probably going to get lost a lot, I'll probably have to talk to some people to ask for directions. I suppose that it's a good thing I can come off as super friendly even though I'm truly the opposite.

I glance around as I walk, noting the people who walk around on the weirdly clean cement sidewalk. I'm one of them, of course. I noticed a group of girls a bit younger than me. They're probably still in high school, and they seem to be gossip girls from what I heard when the passed by me. I always hated that type; they're the type so stupid that all they can do is pass on the same lies over and over. Besides them, I see a guy with black hair and casual wear who looks quite irritated, a brunette boy around my age who flashes a smile, and an old guy who's so happy looking that it's off-putting.

It takes me a long time - in fact, the sun's nearly set. The furniture, or more importantly, the bed, should be waiting for me by now. I ate out while I was in town, so I don't even have to worry about food.

After all, I need the rest. Tomorrow, April 3, is the entrance ceremony. Even though I refused anything relating to public speaking, I also refuse to show up tomorrow with shadows under my eyes and the bad attitude that comes with a lack of sleep.

To-Oh University is a big deal. I can't mess this up.

* * *

**I just wanted to tell those of you who followed, faved, or reviewed how much I appreciate it! Thanks!**


	3. Reflection

**Chapter 3**

I comb through my bushy hair and glare at my reflection in the mirror.

My hair refuses to behave. This is as good as it'll get. The medium length, strawberry-blonde part of my hair - most of it, really - is pulled back into a ponytail. There's another section that I bleached completely white a while ago. It's braided, as usual, and dangles next to my face. My eyes have a small amount of eyeliner and mascara, and though this is very little makeup, it's more than I usually wear.

I'm dressed in a black-and-white patterned blouse and black skirt. It's pretty simple for such an event, but it's one of the prettiest things I've ever worn. I have a tendency to dress in a very casual way, so even this feels odd. My shoes, too, are simple (just black sandals) but the lucky thing is that I'm so normal looking that no one would ever bother to pay attention to me. I think.

All thoughts of Kira have vanished, and have been replaced by a sickening feeling. I don't even know what the feeling is called. I may be fretting over my looks, but I'm not nervous...I just have a bad feeling, I suppose, A gut feeling.

Which makes it about five times better that I turned down that offer of public speaking. I'm not sure if I could pull it off feeling like this.

The feelings sticks with me even as I board the train that takes me to the university. I hate it.

* * *

The auditorium is full of cheerful students. The environment here is somehow cold and welcoming at the same time, and I decide that's probably because of the social group of students combined with the serious style of the architecture and decorations.

Everyone's talking to someone else. Some of it's gossip, some of it's intelligent conversation, and some of it doesn't seem to fall under a category.

"...a couple of guys are speaking…"

"Wow, you look really nice! Dressed for the occasion, huh?"

"This place is incredible!"

"Did you hear about the record with the exam scores this year?"

It goes on, and on, and on.

I'm wonder if I can take it anymore when people slowly began to file towards the chairs. I glance at my watch and hurry to find a seat as well. It seems that people were so busy chatting and I was too busy listening to realize that the entrance ceremony would be beginning shortly and it would leave a bad impression to be found in chaos like this.

I find a seat around the front. That wouldn't be my chosen spot, usually, but there's not much I can do given that the seats are filling in rather quickly.

The ceremony begins exactly as I expected it: boring. There's nothing of much interest for me to listen to or watch, but I do so anyways simply because that's why I came here. It would be a waste of time not to pay any attention.

I don't regret paying attention. Not for long, anyways.

I'd been told that a couple of guys were doing a speech welcoming new students, but since I had taken my entrance exams at a different time and place than they had, so there would be no way for me to know them. I was quite interested to know who these two were, since they'd apparently tied with my score, or I'd come close to theirs, or something. Admittedly, when I got the call about my score, I barely paid any attention to the call. I'd been too busy having a panic attack at one of the first things the caller had said. he said something about me giving a speech and then I'd started zoning in and out.

The first guy who gets up is quite… no, I'll just be brutally honest. He was absolutely gorgeous, with medium brown hair that fell just above his dark brown eyes. He was wearing a suit and tie, and since he had one of the highest scores on this years' entrance exams, that would, of course, be expected of him. He was to be a role model.

The other guy?

I'm not even sure to describe him. This gorgeous guy starts walking to the stage, and then another guy gets up. At first glance, he looks like he's wearing a cheap zombie costume: skin so pale it could be makeup, and bags under his eyes that very well could be, too. I see, as he walks, that he's not even wearing socks, just a gross-looking pair of sneakers crammed directly onto his feet. It gets worse: the guy's wearing jeans. Not even nice jeans. They're worn to the point of being pale blue in some places. His long sleeve T-shirt is clean, but it, too, is worn to the point where I'm not sure if it was supposed to be white or grey.

They walk up the stairs to the stage and their names are announced. Light Yagami and Hideki Ryuga. _Hideki Ryuga? Really?_

Ryuga's back looks rather painfully curved, but it straightens up as he steps onto the stage until his posture is almost longer. That Light guy looks very...hmmm...baffled(?) at this new development. Poor guy. I'm sure he was expecting the other speaker to take this just as seriously as he has.

Whatever it is that he's thinking, he's holding a piece of paper and quickly begins reading, probably to cover his shock that the weird guy next to him is allowed to be on the stage. The speech is pretty lame, and Light makes it worse by reading it in a voice that tries to sound emotional but is really monotone.

Ryuga, on the other hand, is entertaining. He starts off by picking up the paper as if it's dirty, holding the very middle of the top of the page with his thumb and pointer finger and holding it a good foot or so in front of him. Looking closer, I see that his eyes are grey, dark grey, and that his almost non-existent eyebrows rise and fall as he's speaking. His tone of his voice changes on occasion, and it's quite funny to listen to. Besides that, in spite of looking rather odd, he does have a lovely voice.

They walk off the stage after a short round of applause. Everyone is whispering about these two apparent prodigies, and I suddenly realize that the bad feeling from this morning is gone. Until I glance back up at the two speakers, whose seats are a couple of rows ahead of mine.

Ryuga is whispering something to Light.

No, he's whispering something _at _Light. And Light doesn't look happy about it.

The bad feeling comes back, and it does not leave at all for the rest of the day.

* * *

**As promised, I got this up as soon as I could!**

**The chapters shouldn't be nearly as dull now and they should all be about the same length. That's what I'm shooting for, anyways.**

**As always, any comments you have are appreciated!**


	4. Masquerade

I lay in bed that night, hoping to find peace after the ceremony, but all I can do is stare at the ceiling and listen to the thoughts racing through my head. Light Yagami and Hideki Ryuga are part of most, if not all, of my thoughts. It seems they've left quite the impression.

As I'd left the ceremony, I'd heard whispers of their perfect scores. Perfect.

I don't know why those two prodigies are causing me to suffer such anxiety. In spite of myself, I smirked; if I was one to trust others and I told my Aunt about this, I'm sure she'd go on and on about how I'd developed a crush.

Not that this deduction is particularly ridiculous. That may very well be it if I was anything like a normal person, socially and emotionally speaking, but I'm not. I never have been.

* * *

I spend some of the next day shopping. I do, of course, get a weird look from the guy checking me out - in both forms of the phrase - as the only things I've bought are ten black T-shirts, ten white long sleeve shirts, and ten pairs of black skinny jeans. Most people have a more varied wardrobe than that, of course, so I'm sure he thinks it's very out of the ordinary for this to be all I'm purchasing. Of course, there is a reason behind my choice of clothing. I semi-design a lot of my clothing.

* * *

I learned a craft in Girl Scouts almost ten years ago. It's easy, obviously, almost to the point that it's childish, but I've always adored the look of the finished product. This "craft" is why I'm sitting on the floor of my apartment with the black tees and a pair of scissors. I pick up a T-shirt and use the scissors to cut designs and images out of it. The white shirts, of course, are to wear underneath the black. The contrast is a really cool effect and I always have fun doing this.

In no time, I have ten outfits prepared and I feel just as ready for my first day of college as I ever will be, really.

I'm not entirely sure what to expect tomorrow. Classes, of course, but what else? Perhaps, I think, I'll get a chance to talk with the two guys who have stricken my curiosity… not that they have anything at all to do with my reasons for coming here.

* * *

I have a weird dream during the night. I'm pretty sure Light Yagami was involved, although I can't say for sure since I remember so little of it.

* * *

If someone asked me what I most disliked about my new life, I would tell them it was my mode of transportation. I don't get motion sickness unless I'm on a train, which means, or course, that the most cost efficient way for me to get to school is by train.

So I'm on the train and gripping the wall for dear life. I face away from the other passengers, because the last thing I want is for anyone to see me with my eyes shut and my mouth closed, jaw clenched as if I'm angry. The noise of the train is loud enough to cover the sound of my quick, shallow breaths, or at least I think it is. Truth be told, I can feel at least one pair of eyes on me, but I quickly decide that I'm just being paranoid. At that reassuring thought, the feeling slips away, and although I'm not religious I begin to pray that the nausea will go along with it.

As a result of my illness, the trip seems to last hours. When the train comes to a stop and the doors slide open, I am the first passenger to stumble into the station. Relief instantly floods my every molecule.

"Hey," a voice says. It's familiar, but certainly not directed at me. I keep walking. I've been wanting to wander around a little and hope to have time to do so before class. "Hey!" That voice, a bit louder this time but not noticeably it is directed at me. I turn around to see why the voice is so familiar.

It's him!  
Light Yagami.

But it doesn't matter who he is. To speak to any human and not come off as the psychopath that I am, I must put on my mask. My mask is the one that smiles sweetly, the corners of her mouth turning up in a girlish fashion and her eyes widening slightly. She even has her own voice - more cheerful than my own.

"Yes? You're… Light Yagami, aren't you?" questions my mask - or is it me? - sounding almost… flattered.

He grins back and I see a flash of perfect white teeth. Honestly, this guy's even more gorgeous up close. His eyes are cheerful and rather pretty. Brown hair is combed to perfection and an aroma (presumably cologne) rolls off of him. He almost smells like a spice cabinet. Furthermore, Light manages to look professional even when dressed in casual clothing.

"Yes, I'm Light Yagami, but please call me Light," he answers, nodding his head with admirable enthusiasm considering that he's basically speaking to a nobody. "Are you allright? One the train, I got the impression that you weren't doing so well."

Shit. So someone was watching me. I hate appearing weak like that in front of others, but a despicable voice in the far back of my mind tells me that I like the attention. "Oh, I'm fine now! Thanks, though, Light! By the way, my name's Leila Hill," I reply chirpily, as if I truly believe that he cares. And maybe he does.

Light nods, showing that he's listening. By now we are walking together, me speedwalking to keep up with Light's long strides.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you're feeling better. I thought for sure you were going to be sick! Hahaha." Uh, did he really just laugh? It was certainly ill-timed, because I thought I was going to be sick too and I didn't think it was funny at all. "So what classes have you got today?"

The conversation goes on. I find out that we have Psychology together, and I look forward to that class now even more than I already did in the first place. After all, Light seems interesting…

Because he's a liar.

Just. Like. _Me_.

It takes one to know one, and as he spoke, I had come to notice that a lot of what he said seemed… fake. An act. I don't want to criticize him as I do exactly the same thing, but I could tell that he was pretending to be social. Or maybe pretending to like my company? Something like that. Either way, Light is of great interest to me. In terms of personality, it would seem that we two are very similar, and I can't say that's fortunate for either of us.

* * *

**Thank you all for the views, reviews, follows, and faves! I truly appreciate the support since this is my very first fan fiction.**

**I will be working on a cover this weekend (I hope) so that the cover picture won't be a blank avatar anymore.**

**Also, I'm just writing this as I go. I don't have any particular plans for it and am basically doing what I see fit. If you want to suggest something, feel free!**

**As a parting note, this MAY be the last chapter today. I have quite a lot of homework, I hope you all understand.**


	5. Unmasked

My first day of classes went by without anything seemingly important. I didn't have any classes with Light because I didn't have Psychology until two days later, so if the classes I did have, I sat on my own and took note of everything the professor said. People sometimes make the mistake of thinking that cleverness comes easily, but it doesn't. I just study very hard. Knowledge and deduction take work. It's always been that way, and it always will be. I never did get to talk to Hideki Ryuga, which was a great disappointment to me, but there was still plenty of school left to go and I felt certain I'd run into him eventually.

I spend the next day at home, where I should probably be getting started on my work. I don't. I always get things done last minute, which is unwise, but it's always been my way. Instead, I go out looking for a job. I still have money from my parents but it'll run out eventually.

After a while, I've filled out a few job applications and have an interview set up for one. Another uneventful day… how boring.

On the bright side, I have Psychology tomorrow, and Light will be there. It could be interesting, especially since he invited me to lunch with him and one of his friends. The guy's popular to the point where it almost seems like he has a fanclub. He's got a group of guys who look up to him, a group of guys who want a chance to stab him in the the back, and a group of girls who desperately want his every minute, his love and attention. I really hope that he doesn't consider me to be in any of those groups - especially the last one - because I'm really not.

I have to say, I doubt that he does. I think he's hanging out with me to build up his nice guy reputation. Socialize the new girl. I'm not worried at all, though. Plenty of people have tried that, and over the years it's helped me to get better at pretending. Pretending I like people. Pretending to be kind. Pretending to smile.

Pretending to care.

Tomorrow will be just like all the other times… pretending. it's just that this time, I may even enjoy it.

* * *

Morning. I'm looking forward to it enough that I wake up quite early. My morning routine is much the same as it was the day of the entrance ceremony. I even put on makeup. Of course, I have no need to leave the apartment for some time, so I take the time to make a pot of coffee and down the whole thing.

The perfect coffee has one sugar cube per cup and only enough milk to make it appear the color of a milk chocolate bar. It has to be either really strong, or hazelnut.

My five perfect cups of coffee definitely wake me up and help to shake off the little bit of tiredness that remains. I've also found that coffee helps with my process of thinking, so I usually have some before I go anywhere even on a normal day.

I dress a little differently today since it's pretty warm out. I wear one of my black cut out tees over a dark red tank top, and I wear black shorts to match. They barely reach mid-thigh and it feels pretty skimpy, but I don't really feel like jeans today. Then, I wear my favorite pair of shoes ever - my midcalf Converses. They're a dark red as well and I bought black laces to replace the white ones a while ago. I still look like a total weirdo with no fashion sense, but at least I look a little different.

My hair's the same as always, though. I don't even brush it, and the pure white section of it has been braided for days.

Back to the train...gag me.

* * *

Light's waiting for me literally the second I get to the cafeteria. He smiles his smile, laughs his laugh. I'll admit, the laughter is annoying to me. The sound itself is annoying as hell. "_Hahaha!" _Other than that, it's always so horribly ill-timed. He laughs at things that aren't funny, or rude, but I guess most of the human population is stupid enough to think he's being friendly. And worst of all, I know he's a liar, and he's good at it. The only reason I noticed is because I'm good at faking, too. But when he laughs? It's the most fake sound ever. Anyone with a functional brain could tell you that.

But I too lie. I pretend not to mind. And really, the laugh is the only thing I do mind, anyways.

"I'll take your bag to a table," he says, smiling. His handsome features light up with a look of enthusiasm that must have taken him ages to master. "I wouldn't want anyone to take your seat! Hahaha."

I hand him my back and laugh along with him. I don't really have fake laughter, so real or fake, my laughter sounds the same every time. I've been told that it sounds almost evil, but what can you do. "Yeah, that'd be awful, wouldn't it? Thanks! Do you want me to get you any of the desserts? It's the least I can do." That wasn't a lie, for once. He is buying my lunch.

"No thanks," he said, sounding pleased with himself. Apparently I didn't laugh enough at his crappy jokes for his tastes. He glances at his watch and nods at me. "The other guy I invited should be here any minute."

"Okay, I'm looking forward to meeting him!" I proclaim cheerfully. "I'm going for some dessert for myself, then." I turn around so quickly that my red hair pokes into my eyes and the white braid hits me in the face. And I've turned around just in time, too - there's one piece of chocolate cake. Chocolate anything is one of the few things that can actually make me happy, so I'm practically skipping over to it. The icing looks so perfect that I can taste it already. In fact, the smell is just strong enough that I almost can. I reach over to grab the plate, but instead I grab a hand.

A cold, pale hand.

I look at the person to whom the hand belongs, but I don't have to look for long. I see his sleeve and think with near certainty that I know who it is, and then I look up at his face and see his eyes. They are highlighted by dark bags… darker, actually, than they were when he gave that speech at the entrance ceremony. His thin eyebrows are raised, and his hair even more messy than mine.

Hideki Ryuga.

"Oh. Sorry," I gasp, and quickly let go of his hand. I've been standing there for a good ten seconds, gripping it tightly, and staring at him. How… awkward.

"It's alright," he says, glancing back down at the cake and picking it up with great care. Of course he's going to take it. "You were trying to beat me to the cake, after all." _What?_

I can't believe this guy got a perfect score on the entrance exam. Does he really think this is all over that piece of cake? (And it seems he really is taking it, too. He's eaten I bite of it without even paying for it. The deal's sealed now.) I look down at the plate and realize that he's only holding the plate with one hand now. The other hand - the one that I touched - he's rubbing against his white shirt. I suddenly remember thinking that he was holding his speech like it was dirty. Maybe he's a germaphobe or something.

The mask is totally off. I haven't even been smiling since I touched his hand, which means that any minute now I'm going to say or do something really awful. Although I think he really beat me to it by brushing off his hand right in front of my face.

"Yeah…" I agree quickly, scratching my head. I can barely contain all the smartass comments I want to spit at him, but I do. "I'm supposed to be meeting a friend… sorry." I turn around quickly. I want to get away from that wierd situation as soon as possible.

I sit at the spot that Light saved for me. He's already there and there are two lunches at the table. I guess the other person is buying their own. "Is your friend here yet?" I wonder aloud, glancing around. I don't see any of his usual group. Light looks over my shoulder and I wonder if he's ignoring me, but then he grins. "Yes, he's here now, Leila."

I feel something brush against my sleeve and realize with a start that the other person is sitting by me.I turn to look at the person, but the first thing I see if that they don't have lunch. Instead. they've got a huge pile of sweets. Cakes, a doughnut, a bag of candy, and a muffin looking thing.

"Leila?" inquires the voice that I thought was so lovely at the entrance ceremony. The dark grey eyes I was looking at only a minute ago meet mine and reach into the depths of my soul.

"Leila Hill," I expand, nodding. The mask still isn't back on. Does this guy have that effect on everyone?

"This is my friend Ryuga," states Light, sounding cheerful as ever. For once I'm quite glad he started talking because it means I can tear my eyes away from Ryuga to look at Light.

"Er, yeah, I've heard a lot about you, Ryuga," I say after careful consideration. I'm not even trying to put on the mask anymore. This guy could certainly try for a smile, but he's not, so I return the favor and look back into his eyes even though I don't really like the feeling it gives me.

"Is that so." He's not even asking a question. Ryuga knows that people are talking about him. Of course he does.

How am I even supposed to respond to that? "You are the top freshman. Of course I've heard a lot about you." I glanced at Light, who seemed to find this exchange - if you could call it that - amusing. "I certainly didn't expect you and Light would be friends."

At this, the corners of Ryuga's mouth turn up slightly. He's looking back down at his junk food now and poking it with his fork, and he's sitting in a position that looks quite uncomfortable. In fact, I'm surprised that he's able to keep his balance. "Then you expected a rivalry? Perhaps that's all it is… keeping your friends close and enemies closer." I quietly think that he's lucky to have that soft, perfect voice to make up for that awful posture. He looks back up at me and I just manage to keep from wincing visibly. "But you're a top student too, so perhaps that's your reason for befriending Light Yagami."

_What. The. Hell._

Light laughs. Of course.

I have to admit that I'm caught off guard. What's the point in saying something like that in front of Light? My eyes dart over to him, but he still looks genuinely amused.I sighed inwardly and frown. "I'm a top student? And how'd you come by that information, Ryuga?" I'm careful to call him by his last name. I can't put my finger on why, exactly, but he seems to be someone who should be respected.

Ryuga turns his head in my direction so quickly that I hear the bones in his neck crack. It's a disgusting sound, and I've always thought so. His face is blank, his eyes freakishly wide; his expression comes as a shock. I thought he'd at least be irritated at me for snapping at him. Those eyes lock into mine and, once again, I feel the peculiar sensation of someone listening to my thoughts.

"People talk," he says, and this irritates me so badly that I know it's showing on my face. That's basically what I said to him earlier and it makes me wonder if he's twisting my own words in order to evaluate my reaction. Unfortunately, my long-awaited talk with the top freshman is going nowhere fast and I decide to look away.

"I'm well aware of that, but no one here even know my name," I shoot back rather coldly, facing Light and wishing irritably that he'd never invited me to lunch in the first place. I wish he'd start talking already, because it's clear that Ryuga's an ass and I don't want to listen to his pointless jabs anymore. I don't always enjoy Light's chatter, but even I have to admit that he has a way of removing tension from a conversation.

Light is totally useless, though. he does absolutely _nothing_ for a solid two minutes. By now, all the food's gone, even Ryuga's lack of conversation is uncomfortable, and I can sense eyes on Ryuga and Light… maybe even me.

This is hardly what I expected, and since the last thing I want to do now is sit next to Ryuga, I stand up without any hesitation whatsoever. My right hand fiddles absently with the white braid and I smile. The mask is back and when Ryuga looks up at me, I can tell he notices. "Well, thanks for inviting me, Light, I had a great time. And I guess I'll be seeing you around since you're Light's friend, Ryuga!" I pick up my bag and begin to turn, relieved, when Light finally says something.

"Wait, Leila! I forgot to mention it but Ryuga challenged me to a tennis match!" he exclaims, sounding so enthusiastic that it's overwhelmingly cheesy. At first I thought Light was an incredible liar, but sometimes the way he says things… it's a dead giveaway. I'll bet Ryuga sees right through it, too. "You'll come and cheer me on, right? After all, we've all got Psychology together in a while, anyways."

Ryuga has our Psychology class, too? That's interesting, although I suppose it means I'll have to get used to his… uniqueness.

And as for tennis… I don't know the rules very well, but I do love watching almost any sport. I turn my head slightly and glance back at Light. he looks in shape, and sometimes when he moves you can see the muscles rippling under his clothes. Ryuga looks ill and inferior in every way, but sometimes people surprise me.

"Of course I'll come, Light," I say, without promising to cheer for anyone. Truthfully, I'm apt to cheer for the winner.

Ryuga spins on his chair, still in the odd sitting position. He's staring at me again, but I have decided not to meet his gaze again. "We should head to the tennis courts, then, Light."  
Light looks rather unhappy with Ryuga's manners - after all, it is customary to look at the person you're actually talking to - but he just nods his head. "Bring it on! I'm truly looking forward to this, Ryuga. Haha."

_Okay, Light. You could cut the laughter anytime now._

* * *

**Okay, I'll confess. I though the other chapters were bit longer than they actually were. From now on, I'll be uploading fewer chapters with more content.**

**I never realized how hard it is to accurately represent L when writing. Light's easy because he's basically a self-obsessed lunatic but L? Ugh.**

**Anyways, here you go!**


	6. Assessment

**The timeline has been formatted in a very slight, insignificant manner for the sake of the story. Thank you for your tolerance, I suppose!**

* * *

__L__

I don't understand what Light is trying to do. I truly don't. That is, of course, assuming that he is trying to make some kind of a point. By having me meet this girl, what was he hoping to achieve? If it was his way of showing off how friendly he is, I suppose he was successful enough, but this does nothing to stop my suspecting him. At this point, Light Yagami has been made completely unaware that I suspect him. Be that as it may, he is intelligent enough to have realized this fact on his own.

At the same time, it may well come in handy to know another friend of Light's in the near future. She may know him better than I do and that means it could be possible for me to use her to pinpoint any changes in Light's behavior.

But something about Leila Hill's behavior is very wrong. She seems almost bipolar, but also very aware of her attitude changes. In fact, I comfortably think that she is even choosing when, and in what way, to change how she appears to others. All of this is mere speculation, but I am about 93% certain of its accuracy.

* * *

__Leila__

I catch Ryuga staring at me at least five times during the short walk to the tennis courts, and each time he looks away rather quickly, as if he doesn't want me to notice. That does make sense, though - no one wants to be caught staring because people are so quick to judge your reasoning for doing so. I know this because I myself am judging Ryuga now. If he's as intelligent as he's supposed to be, he's slowly coming to the conclusion that my mental and social well-being are not what they appear. He should find this quite intriguing, which is unfortunate for me. I work very hard to appear normal, but one mess-up and someone could tear down that image.

I have a feeling that Ryuga's first impression of me was not a good one, and so I try to re-evaluate him. He looks strange, obviously. The posture, the clear signs of insomnia, and the fact that he clearly doesn't care about his appearance set him apart from most others… Light, for instance. Light puts a lot of thought into his appearance, which is obvious owing to the fact that he's so well-groomed all the time. Ryuga is also openly intelligent, but in a very unique way. I've noticed that while he's not a trivia addict, he'll often state a statistic relating to some event at school or someone's personal life. And it seems to me like those statistics are, at least, realistic. He doesn't cover how clever he is to make others feel better. I myself do have a tendency not to appear outwardly intelligent. That granted, it's not to make others feel better at all.

Dissecting Ryuga's personality doesn't help me at all because I keep coming back to the same conclusions: he's a genius who is quite suspicious of my behavior, and he's likely not going to be afraid to tell me the first chance he gets. I also have a feeling that he and Light are truly rivals, as he mentioned earlier, although they may seem like friends at the surface. That, at least, would explain why Light is being so disgustingly friendly even as we reach the courts, laughing constantly. _Light feels threatened by Ryuga and is trying to get close to him in order to surpass him, maybe?_

I admit to myself how annoying it is to feel this obsessed with a couple of guys. After all, you'd think that my own life would be interesting enough that I wouldn't concern myself with the lives of others. At the same time, the relationship between them is so confusing that I can't help but pay careful attention to it. I have always been somewhat obsessed with the observation of other people, so I suppose this is really nothing more than my usual hobby.

Now that I'm thinking of people watching, I briefly remember that I walked by Light on the sidewalk when I first moved here. Not that it's significant, but it's still funny that the first time I saw my closest acquaintance, I hadn't even smiled at him. Then, he was just another stranger, even more so than now.

I stay outside of the fenced-in area and sit on a bench, and the boys go in. Light stretches casually, but Ryuga is standing beside him. He's definitely going to lose if he keeps that up. I don't know much about sports but I do know that you can tweak something if you don't warm up first. Light seems to notice this too, and he looks eerily confident. I swallow and frown a little. I'm generally decent enough at reading people like me, and I know there's something more than just confidence behind his smirk.

Light looks up and his expression softens a little as he meets my eyes. I choke back a gasp and feel a sudden warmth creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. I'm blushing, and it's an unnatural feeling. It's wrong, and not suitable for someone with my personality. I shake my head slightly and feel the blush fading away. It comes as a relief that Ryuga was paying no attention to me - that makes one less person to observe that embarrassing little scene.

Light and Ryuga had been talking before, and since I've lost my train of thought, I tune in to their conversation. It resumes rather quickly, almost as if it never stopped, with Ryuga saying, "Don't worry, Light. I used to be the British Junior champion." Champion? I look at his still-hunched body and my eyes widen. It seems that I may be out for a shock after all.

Light looks deeply in thought before he answers Ryuga with a question. "So you grew up in England?" My eyes move back to Ryuga. Really, he doesn't look Asian. He's so pale, and his eyes especially are all wrong. But I've never really been to Britain, so I can't say which of his features are fitting for someone of British descent.

Ryuga's eyes flicker over to me for a split second before his unblinking gaze fixes onto Light. His head turns slightly and he looks almost cute from this angle, but what he does is quite unsettling. "I lived in England for about five years…" he discloses, and his voice begins to fade. "But relax…" His voice is totally inaudible from where I now stand, but whatever he says puts a foul expression on Light's face. His eyebrows turn down and his pupils stare straight ahead. The light appears to make his eyes flash red, and I mutely decide that it ruins his good looks.

The two separate and begin to walk towards their proper places. "So, just one set. Whoever wins six games first is the winner. All right with you?" Ryuga is facing away from Light but his perfect voice carries well, unlike earlier.

"Fine," Light agrees. He looks just as serious now as he did when he was giving his speech at the entrance ceremony. I'm just relieved that he wiped that ghastly expression from his face. He steps into a stance that I assume will help him move far more rapidly when he needs to. Ryuga, on the other, serves the ball so swiftly that in the split-second it took me to blink, the score was already fifteen-zero with Ryuga in the lead.

"Hey, Ryuga, you ever hear of warming up?" Light's voice appears outwardly cheerful, and although he's faced away from me, I can imagine his expression: a false smile, eyes closed and eyebrows raised, but as always, and edge to his look.

"He who moves first always wins," Ryuga drones in his colorless voice, his face a blank slate. He hardly looks pleased, but I haven't seen him look pleased about anything at this point.

"And you've been warming up for the past ten minutes, Light, so I don't see what you're going on about," I assert, my facial expression quite blank and my tone of voice firm but amused.

"I thought you were supporting me, Leila!" he protests. I can't see Light's face, but Ryuga is as close to a grin as I've seen him. As a result, I assume Light must be pulling a face of some sort. I only hope he's not... _blushing._

I see Ryuga's eyes shoot to his left and my eyes follow his. They've got a small crowd coming to watch them play and they're only one serve in. I glance back at the game, which has resumed during the time I took to look at the crowd. It's easy to see why people have come to watch. Light and Ryuga seem to be equally matched and the game has become intense. Light, of course, is still faced away from me, but his body language exhibits a considerable amount of focus. And to be frank, I am absolutely certain that the girls are over there because Light's wearing shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt, and they basically think of him as eye candy. As a matter of fact, I recognize some of the girls as members of the Light Yagami fan club.

A guy who I recognize as the tennis team captain is also watching the game in awe, and one of his lackies is running this way. "Captain!" The guy's eyes are so wide open, it's as if he doesn't have eyelids. "I thought I'd heard of Light Yagami before, so I looked him up." Over a tennis match? What a stalker. "He was the junior high champion in 1999 and 2000!"

I look back at Light. He is incredible at this, so I should have expected something like this. "When he won in 2000, he announced he was quitting once he started high school, and hasn't been in a single tournament since!" announces the tennis geek/Light Yagami fanboy. The tennis captain looks even more in awe and I prepare to tune out the fangirl parade… that is, until a cute, petite girl to the right of the tennis captain kills the mood.

"Hey, what about Ryuga, then?" she says, clasping her hands together and blushing profusely. I knew Ryuga had garnered a lot of respect from the student population, but I hadn't expected him to have any… fans, for lack of a better word. Perhaps "stalker" would be more fitting since I'm certain I've seen this girl around him before. "He's totally holding his own against this junior high champion. In fact, he's even better!"

I do have to agree with her. Light and Ryuga seem fairly matched, but I'm not even certain that Ryuga is putting forth his best effort. Especially now that I'm paying attention to his face, I believe that he's giving Light room to win. I can tell by looking at the expression etched into his face, far more intense than anything I have seen upon it thus far, that he is thinking about something far more intellectual than a tennis match. His eyes seem to be looking at Light Yagami or following the path of the ball, but I can see the gears turning in his head. _What is this?_ _There seems to be some ulterior motive behind this, but why? And… what is it? _My heart rate shoots up significantly. This realization is so… unexpected, and I feel like I shouldn't have noticed it. This wasn't meant to be a public fact.

I grin. It's a lucky thing for Ryuga that I'm so disconnected from the public.

The ball shoots past the outstretched racquet of Hideki Ryuga for the last time. Light Yagami is the victor… or so it would seem. I hate to admit it to myself, but I'm quite disappointed.

The crowd slowly begins to clear out as Ryuga and Light meet in the middle and shake hands. They're talking about something that seems to amuse Light, but Ryuga seems as serious as ever. I wish they'd come over here already, since they're going to have to change before Psychology, or at least they should, given that they're covered in sweat from head to toe.

I wait almost fifteen minutes before Light and Ryuga finally begin to head my way. I'd been waiting rather patiently on a bench, gripping the chainlink fence and allowing myself to fall into my thoughts, until I saw them exit the area. My hair sprung up and down on my head as I ran over to them and I muttered a curse at it for being so frizzy. Even though I'm not particularly feminine, I have to care about my looks. Since I put on a great show, pretending to be a your average human each and every day, I do put thought into how people perceive me. My frizzy hair often ruins the effect of my more appealing face, and I've never been able to get it under control.

Light beams at me, his face glowing with a level of satisfaction that is not, in fact, fake. He's so self confident it goes past admirable and into the realm of laughable. I don't think I've seen him look so much like a real human since I met him. He now shows imperfections: he's sweating, and he smells and looks gross. So does Ryuga, for that matter. Light also seems to be showing real emotion, as well. He must have enjoyed beating Ryuga, if nothing else.

"Great job, you two. Was that as fun to do as it was to watch?" I question, trying to make myself sound slightly eager as I grin and cock my head ever so slightly to the left.

"It _was _very interesting," says Ryuga, staring at me and sounding as if he's making some kind of confession.

"Actually, I haven't had to play that hard in a long time!" Light proclaims cheerfully, walking up to me and standing uncomfortably close. I bite my lip but don't say anything until I feel a warm, moist embrace and my face is buried in the sweat-soaked shirt of Light Yagami.

"Eeeew!" I squeal, pushing the tips of my fingers against his chest and stumbling backwards a couple of feet. I'm not extremely germaphobic, but I do have my limits. Not only does sweat carry a rather unpleasant odor, but it's also full of bacteria. Besides that, I've never been sexually inclined, but the feeling of being pressed against the well-toned chest of a good-looking young man is an awkward feeling. I touch my hair only to find that it's soaked in sweat as well. "Why did you do that?" I say, mostly hysterical but unable to take all of the amusement out of my own voice. "I'm all sweaty now! It's very likely that I smell as bad as you two now."

Ryuga is an ever silent observer to the drama, or at least that what it seems it's going to be. And I don't have a problem with it at all. I'm too busy trying to wipe the sweat out of my hair and scowling at Light for laughing at me. After a couple of minutes, though, he can't hold in his smartass comments, apparently, because his dark grey eyes, defined so well by the dark shadows underneath them, lock onto mine. At first I think he's just going to stare at me, and then he opens up his mouth. "I wasn't aware that you were so _shy_, Leila." _Since when were we on a first-name basis?_

His comment isn't really that funny, but Light and I are apparently in decent enough moods for once that we both laugh. I almost choke on my own saliva and Lights pounds me on the back once. It's embarrassing, but I laugh along with Light again. The second time isn't as real as the first, but I can't lose face now. Ryuga gives the smallest, most easily ignored smile of all time, but since it's him and he never has anything but a blank expression, I notice.

We walk to Psychology in silence, in spite of the fun we'd been having only moments ago.

* * *

Psychology is something I've always found interesting, but my mind races throughout class, replaying the same thoughts over and over. Everything I thought about during the tennis match especially occupied my mind. I wondered what the deeper purpose behind that game was, because I knew there was one. I wondered why I had struggled to be the friendly girl everyone knew, even if I only seemed to struggle with that around Ryuga.

I began to develop a theory. This theory was that Hideki Ryuga was simply so open about how different he was that it was difficult for her not to be open around it. Something about being around a person who was openly unique, and even seemed to highlight his unique traits, is making me feel inferior by trying to cover my true social state and personality. The second part of the theory involves the fact that Ryuga seems to be at least as, if not more, observant than I am. I find it very likely that it's clear to him who I am as a person, and since he already knows, it's hard for me to hide it.

We get a fair amount of homework, but I stress over how I'm going to fit it into my schedule anyways. I jam all my stuff into my bag, and feel sort of relieved to be parting ways with the school and other people for a couple of days. I stand up to go, but realize I've dropped it on the floor. I bend down to pick it up and sit back down in my chair to stuff it into my bag. Finally, ready to go, and tired after the very long day I've had, I look up from my bag.

There's a nose about two and one-eighth inches from my own.

"Agh!" I start out shouting but quiet my voice quickly. I'm not afraid, but shocked. And who wouldn't be? I certainly wasn't expecting to be jump-scared by Hideki Ryuga after class.

He's sitting in the chair next to me in his weird way: knees pulled up to his chest, with his feet in front of his body. His body is curved over his knees and his arms are wrapped around his legs. The only difference between right now and the other times I've seen him sitting is that he's leaning over much more. It's incredible that he can keep his balance like this.

"Um… Ryuga, do you… need something?" _Like some mental help, maybe?_

He looks into my eyes for a while longer, and I feel like he's studying me. Reading me like a book. Once again, I'm smelling the foul odor of a very sweaty man, up close and personal.

"I need to ask you something very important," he responds slowly in monotone, still not allowing me to break the contact between us. I nod helpfully, hoping he'll just tell me what he wants to, and lean back a little. It almost causes me to fall out of my chair, so he grabs my arm and pulls me back up before I even have time to be frightened of hitting the floor. "Be careful, Leila," he chides, his expression suddenly a stern one before it fades back into the blank one. "You'll be alright."

I bob my head up and down quite rapidly. I can actually feel my hair pulling because of it, so I stop. The smell of sweat has mostly gone away, which is nice because it was making me gag a little. I have a rather low tolerance for bad smells and it would have been quite embarrassing to puke on him. "Yes, thank you," I reply coldly. I can see that Light's not here right now, so I see no need to pretend to be the cheerful person he still thinks is there. "Even though it was your fault that I fell over in the first place. Please ask your question already. I have places to go." Lies. The only place I have to go is home, and I don't even have any calls to make. My parents have made no attempt to contact me since I moved.

He doesn't comment on my rudeness, or flinch, or react in any of the ways normal people do. He doesn't even blink. Ryuga reminds me so much of the reality of myself that I'm not sure whether to love him or hate him. "I would like for you to inform me of your opinion of Light Yagami." He finally blinks, but that doesn't make the situation feel any more real. Why would he be asking that, even if they were really friends?

"Why do you need to know that?" I snap, picking up my bag but getting a feeling that it would be a horrible idea to upset Ryuga. I know I can't just walk away, especially after he's asking a weird question like that. "Aren't people entitled to keep their opinions to themselves? Besides, I hardly think Light would be happy with me for talking about him behind his back, especially in a bad way."

"So you think badly of him. And do you really care how he feels? You don't seem the type, Leila," he states, his tone still colorless and totally lacking in the annoyance I'd hoped for. "I assure you that your opinion is important. The information I have recovered seems to suggest that you, Leila, are a very intelligent individual. What do you think of Light Yagami?"

"What information?" I snap, feeling more and more uncomfortable as the situation progresses. I want to know why and how he has information on me, and what the information is. For instance, I feel that it could potentially hurt my future if it got out that I once spent time in juvie for breaking into a "friend's" house and stealing all of their knives as a way of conveying a message. _Don't mess with me. _"Why are you being so damn nosy all of a sudden?"

He sighs, and I feel that I am finally beginning to wear down on him. I'm not sure that's a good thing anymore, though. "I have access to your school records and some… _other _information, but it will not be released to the public for any reason." Nice how he knew what I was thinking, but who the hell is this guy who has access to God knows what information about me? "Please answer the question. I daresay you've been formulating an answer to that question since you met Light Yagami. I am simply asking you to convey that information to me." He blinks for the second time in just over two minutes. "And do hurry. I have an appointment soon."

_Whatever. What harm can it do anyways? _"Light is a good actor - no, a good liar. I doubt that he is anything like the person he is presenting to us. Everything from his speech to his laughter is far too perfect to be real. Besides that, when I first met him, he came off as someone who is faking everything about himself. It's only speculation, but I tend to be correct about people like that." Ryuga is getting closer with my every word, and I would lean back again if I wasn't afraid of falling and having him grab me again.

"People like you?" he asks, but it's a rhetorical question. Both of us know the answer, so I just let it sit there.

"Can I go now? I've got a job interview," I lie expertly, turning my back without waiting for him to answer.

"Job…"

I don't wait to see if he's speaking to me because things are progressively getting weirder and there is no way in hell that I'm waiting to hear any more of his questions. "See you next time," I say, glancing back into the wide, dark pits called his eyes before I swing open the door and walk out.

Light is in the hallway, presumably waiting for Ryuga, and it takes some work to smile at him. He flashes a smile back and asks if Ryuga will be out anytime soon. Underneath the friendly questioning is a slight tone of desperate curiosity.

I shrug and walk away without really answering.

* * *

**I know I sort of mention it earlier but I'm working on bring up the length and quality of content in the chapters from this point forward. That's why it took more than a day to get this chapter up, but I hope you all don't mind.**

**By the way, I owe you all a big thank you. First of all, for being here to read this. That in itself is really cool of you!**

**As for those of you who have faved/followed/reviewed, thank you as well. I really appreciate the support I've received, especially since I'm so inexperienced at this.**

**I finally got a cover image up, even if it is temporary. It's a pencil drawing I did of Leila and I had to photograph it since my scanner's broken. Also, it's my first time drawing anime so please excuse me for the bad quality. xD  
**

**Thanks again to you all, and I appreciate the support I've received.**


	7. Familiar

When I leave the school grounds, I still feel ill and struggle to cover my unease. _I have access to your school records and some… _other _information… _Those words shake me up. Information. Information. Knowledge is power. Ryuga has knowledge no one should be able to access, so how powerful is he? I made sure that some of my background information was erased, including my older school records and some of my medical and background information. But he mentioned school records, among other things, when the only things that were accessible to anyone, including me, are my current school records and medical history from the past year.

Who does he think he is to be so incredibly nosy? And as a side thought, I can't help but wonder why he took enough interest in me to dig around for my school records, if not everything else. After all, I usually blend in with the crowd, except that I'm basically Light Yagami's pet. That's the impression I _thought _I was leaving, anyways. Actually, once I give it some thought, it becomes apparent that my constant presence around Light might be what caught Ryuga's attention. After all, I never see him around campus unless Light is in the immediate vicinity. It's as if Ryuga is some kind of a stalker, but if that's the case, Light has become adept at feigning friendship with him. I already had a feeling that they were really just rivals, but now the thought has progressed into the two of them being enemies. _Stalker… is Ryuga following Light for some reason? _

As absurd as that sounds, the facts seem to support it. But what has Light done to deserve being followed? Sure, maybe he's a psychopath like me, but but psychopathy doesn't have to make someone any kind of criminal. Anyways, even a psychopath that is a criminal is hard to catch because they're sneaky. (That given, sociopaths are a bit more open about it, and that's just not Light Yagami. Besides, you can tell just by looking at Light that he's been pampered all his life, and sociopaths don't get that privilege.)

Besides that, it's hard to see Light as any kind of criminal. He's got so much going for him that it would be a waste of life, and I think he knows that. The guy is a genius, after all.

I shake my head and try to clear my thoughts of everything but what I"m supposed to be thinking. Ever since I moved here, I've been researching Kira. My laptop now contains a 240-page Word document full of all the information I've gathered on Kira, some notes relating to Japanese legends and myths, and some of my own speculations and theories. I've spent countless hours researching, and I'm so serious about it that it's absurd. All this because of the death of one freaking psycho.

Right now, I'm looking at my list of known victims. It's not entirely up-to-date since I happen to have a life and Kira has too many victims for me to archive in my free time. I keep coming back to it, though. I have an instinct that keeps whispering to come back to it, but I can't for the life of me decide what it is I'm supposed to gain from the list.

The first name, of course, is Beyond Birthday. After all, he was the victim that sent me here, even though he wasn't the first victim. The link to an article about his death is embedded into his name, just as with all the other criminals who were murdered. It's the very same article that my aunt sent me the day I decided to move to Japan.

My cursor hovers over the link for a moment. I begin to bite the insides of my cheeks, which are riddled with scars from where I've done that over the years. I remember when they used to be smooth, but that was when I was seven. I was already weird then, but that was when things started going downhill fast and my cheek-biting habit began.

I click the link and Internet Explorer slowly loads into that same life-changing article I read three months ago. This news site is still my homepage, and it seems like all the news for ages has been Kira.

I read the headline and look at the illustration that goes along with it. It's a picture of a young-looking guy, probably just a few years older than me. He could have been good-looking, I guess, if it weren't for his face and neck, the only parts of him visible in the shot, being screwed up from his assisted suicide. I sigh and bite my cheek again. Blood begins to leak out of it, but it pools into my mouth as I stare at the picture. What is it that's giving me this gut feeling? I don't understand what I could be missing from the list. My fingers slam onto the trackpad and exit out of the window, and I begin to click on links at random. Within seconds, I have fifteen tabs open, and I'm switching between them and yelling at myself. I have never behaved this badly in my life. I daresay my neighbors hate me by now. After all, it's nearly midnight.

"Come on, what am I missing? I don't get it! The only link is that they're lowlives, but what… what…" Headlines, headlines, names and headshots. Scowling thugs glare at me from the screen of the monitor. "Shit! I know I'm missing something! It has to be right in front of my face!"

I scan through ten other articles. Everything blares out at me and I click Beyond's link again. His fearsome scowl looks excruciating on his ruined up face.

Face.

Picture. Pictures?

And… a list of names. I have their names. And… and their pictures. I've gone through about a hundred articles and every one of them had a picture of them, either of their entire body, torso-up, or a headshot.

But what does that mean?

It means… that Kira has his limits.

I shut my computer down and swallow.

I feel incredibly stupid. This is so painfully clear, and I should have realized it long ago.

Kira is far from a god, or even a comic book superhero. He has to have a name and a face to kill someone.

I swallow. Lucky thing I'm not a dangerous criminal, or I'd be dead by now.

* * *

Just after two o'clock, I fall asleep in spite of the excitement that has welled up inside of me.

I never manage to reach the REM stage, though, because I don't dream and when I wake up I can tell I didn't get any real rest. My mind was moving too quickly, I suppose.

I'm not even sure what time it is, to be honest. I don't even want to look out the window to see where the sun is, although I can see it shining even through my blackout curtains. I push my sheets aside and try to blink out the thin rays of light, but it's no use - something else catches my eye.

My computer is on.

I frown. Maybe I left it on last night and I reached over a touched it earlier this morning. But that doesn't explain why the screensaver doesn't appear to be working.

The more I blink, the more clear the pictures are, and I can see what's going on with my computer.

I've been hacked and someone is downloading my files.

I'm not too concerned about my files, but I am concerned for my computer. I'd hate for the hacker to somehow damage it permanently. Although I guess I'll have to wipe everything and change all my passwords anyways.

My sigh is shallow and frustrated as I sit up and pull my computer into my lap. My eyes drift away from the pop-up, which now says, "Download Complete". I suddenly wonder if the hacker will mess something up if the see me move the mouse, but I don't really know what else to do. My knowledge of hacking and techy stuff is fairly limited.

I click out of the box and realize that I'm on a 240-page paper. No… 241 pages. I frown. I don't remember typing up my new theory yesterday, so the page number should still be the same.

It's scrolled down to the very bottom of the page, so I scroll up a little. Justified, 10-point, Adobe Garamond font. At first I can't read it because everything's still a bit fuzzy, but there's a short message that reads:

_I have taken the liberty of borrowing certain files. -H. Ryuga_

Ryuga? I'm getting sick of that guy.

Furthermore, it's so unprofessional to hack into my computer at - I glance at the clock - noon? He must have known that I'd catch him in the act, so did he think he'd just get away with it? I scowl. I don't have his phone number or email, so I can't harass him about it until the next time I have class with him.

I wonder what he's studying since it would affect how often I came across him. I want to tell him off as soon as possible.

Now for lunch.

I open the fridge and rifle through it. It's pretty messy in there but all the food's still good, so I set some lunch meat on the counter and start to eat it out of the bag. My fingers are covered in slimy meat juice, so obviously that's when my phone has to ring. I briefly consider ignoring it, but I don't know who'd be calling me besides someone I had a job interview with. I quickly rinse of my hands and pick up my phone. "Er, hello?" I groggily draw out the "o" and feel annoyed at whoever it is for calling me in the middle of lunch.

My eyes flicker quickly to the small screen of my flip phone. The number's blocked, but I know kids who do that. It might just be someone from school. I can hear a voice in the background, but it's completely muffled. There's only that single voice, though, so I assume the caller isn't in a public place. This raises the possibility of them being a potential employer, since they would be in an office. There's a hole in that theory as well since an employer wouldn't have a blocked number. I only wish the caller would speak to me already instead of arguing with someone else and leaving me to listen to their faint voices that have nearly been reduced to static.

Finally, the mystery caller gathers the decency to speak to me. "I apologize, Miss Hill," says a familiar voice that is absolutely devoid of any regret whatsoever.

"Ryuga," I snap. So it was a student after all. I never gave Ryuga my number, but I suppose if he has my school records he would have my phone number… my address… "What the he - " is all I manage to say before I'm interrupted.

"It would be my pleasure to have lunch with you today. Will you join me, Miss Hill?" The question makes me want to vomit and puts me dangerously on edge. Did Ryuga really just have the nerve to ask me out after pestering me yesterday and then hacking into my computer and downloading at least one of the files contained on it. And since when did he call me Miss Hill? He should have been calling me something polite like that all along, but it makes me uncomfortable that he's taken to calling me Leila in public and apparently "Miss Hill" in private.

It also occurs to me how good his timing is. Actually, it's too perfect. He downloaded that file and left a message when I would notice it before the screensaver started working. And now he's asking me to lunch just as I've started eating.

"Ryuga. Did you screw with my camera?" I question, glaring at the black dot above the screen of my laptop just in case he did. I sound blatantly irritated, but I've known him for long enough - a day - to know that he won't care.

"I will arrive at your apartment momentarily. Please be ready to leave when I get there," he mutters, completely ignoring my question. I hear a beep and I realize, with a moment of pure rage, that he's hung up on me. I stare at my phone for a minute and begin, again, to chew on the scarred insides of my cheeks. It's still recovering from yesterday's ordeal and begins bleeding in mere seconds. The metallic fluid runs over my tongue, warm and sticky, the taste so strong that I can easily smell it without opening my mouth. It's foul, and I banish it to the bathroom sink before I brush my teeth.

My pajamas are magnificently ugly and worn out, but that doesn't stop me considering wearing it to lunch with Ryuga just to see if I can make him mad. That is, I considered it until I remembered that he probably has some kind of dirt on me. In the end, my singular act of rebellion is that I leave my hair in a mess, although that hardly counts because it's always like that. Besides, Ryuga would have to be a filthy hypocrite to get upset over _my _hair.

True to his word, Ryuga's limo arrives less than four minutes from his call. I've not been inside a limousine before and to be honest, the only reason I look forward to it now is because the sooner I get it that car, the sooner I'll see Ryuga, and the sooner I can chew him out. After all, I do have a legitimate excuse after yesterday and the hacking thing on top of that.

It's doubtful that Ryuga will escort me to the car given that he seems to lack social skills or manners of any kind, but upon opening the door to walk out, I'm surprised to see an elderly man who was probably about to knock.

"Oh, sorry… do you need something?" I ask, smiling a little and forcing some cheer into what would otherwise be a very blank tone of voice. "I was just leaving."

"I am aware of that. I've come to escort you to the car, Miss Hill," he answers, nodding curtly. Oh, so I do get an escort. But not my lunch buddy. A freaking butler. My eyebrows had shot up, luckily unseen under the cover of my hair. Ryuga didn't really seem the type to have a butler.

I quickly noticed that the butler looked better off overall than his employer. He was neat and wearing a suit, and he also appeared to get a hell of a lot more sleep than Ryuga evidently does.

"Thank you," I say, feeling a great respect for this man. Assuming he's not putting on some kind of show for the rest of the world, this tidy-looking man must be incredible to be able to put up with Ryuga, who might as well tie a sign around his neck announcing that he's the world's sloppiest genius. It's difficult because it makes me feel like a child, but I allow the old man to guide me to the car. When he opens the door, I slide in as fast as possible. It's hard not to notice that the windows have a dark tint to them.

The oddity of being in such an expensive vehicle, something I'd never be able to afford myself, really, brings everything crashing down around me. My mind suddenly flashes back to when my cousin died, and people realized that there was a reason for me to act so weirdly all the time at that point. I had something new: an excuse. I never used it, but other people did; they gave me something else that was new, and it's something we call pity.

The first time I experienced pity, even though I didn't need it at the time, was when the foundation of all that is normal began to develop cracks. And as Kira appeared, and some other things happened in my personal life, the cracks grew. But especially the past 30 hours or so _alone _have ruined me, and it's especially because of the actions of my new friend, Ryuga. I _thought _it was normal to find shelter behind a mask. I _thought_ that it was normal to have a private life. I _thought _it was normal to make "friends". But I can't pretend around Ryuga. I just can't. And as for a private life? He has my school records, among other things. He's trying to call Light into question, too. I don't really think of either of them as my friends, but sadly, my three-day-long acquaintanceship with Light is probably my longest lasting relationship with another human being. Ever.

And this, I decide, is why all of normalcy has crashed down around me, trapping me in a tight space with no way to get out. If I'd never come to Japan, I wouldn't have to deal with this crap. I wouldn't have to put up with Ryuga jumping down my back for some reason, and I would be pampered but ignored by my parents, who still hadn't contacted me.

Even though I'm unsure of what should be called normal now, I know this so-called lunch date will be far from it. In fact, it's been a little over forty seconds since the old man started driving, and it already feels weird.

This is likely because of the overwide grey eyes that I forgot to look for. They stare at me from a corner, analysing my every action even though I've not taken any. But I'm sure Ryuga is pulling all sorts of information from my silence. Of course he is. I turn my head so I'm not just staring out of the corners of my eyes, but full in the face. His face is completely barren of some form of expression, which is absolutely normal, and he's not blinking at all. It's a good thing that I'm not someone who gets worked up about staring, because if I was, I'd have croaked by now.

"May I ask why you've invited me to lunch? I'd appreciate the help since I'm very confused; I thought I made it quite clear that I don't enjoy your company." A scowl accompanies my words, seemingly just rude, but my tone makes them vicious. The longer I think about it, the less kindly I take to how nosy this freak is.

"I intend to tell you this soon. Please just relax. I would hate for this to become an unpleasant experience," he replies, quite coldly. I don't miss the underlying threat, but I'm not sure who he is to make that threat. Depending on his family, or his wealth (which he certainly has), he could certainly make mincemeat of me. But if the circumstances weren't right, then the threat could be completely false. However, I do have an idea as to whether I should really worry, and I believe he is being honest when he silently conveys that he will get what he wants no matter how I behave. Ryuga apparently has some important connections that are of great use to him, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to procure my school information or anything else. Besides, if he has the money for a butler and a limo, he probably has the money to bribe people if he needs to.

It turns out that I don't have to wait long at all after that exchange, because the limo stops and stays that way. I had wondered where we were going, but I knew now. And it wasn't a restaurant. "What the hell? What are we doing at a hotel? You said you were taking me for lunch." I cross my arms across my chest, my face mostly neutral. I wondered if Ryuga was the "I-Live-the-Suite-Life" kind of guys, because I couldn't see any other realistic reason that we would be at a hotel instead of one of the local cafes.

"I am taking you to lunch," he says, as if that should explain everything. I wonder if he's talking about room service. It's plausible, I suppose, although I can't say I'm entirely comfortable with him dragging to into some hotel just because he can. The old man opens Ryuga's door, and instead of just getting out and waiting for me to exit from the other door, Ryuga grabs my arm and pulls me across the seat. I try to pull back, but it's impossible; whatever a feminist says, an average women will never overcome a man in power. Ryuga is strong, and he refuses to loosen his grip. As I try to pull away, he stops and watches me, probably waiting for me to get the point: _You're not getting away. Give it up. _It takes a full minute, which felt much longer than it really was, before I decide that he's not letting go and I can't break away.

"I can walk on my own," I snarl viciously, but slide over on the seat all the same. I don't want to fight anymore simply because a mere minute trying to pull myself from his grasp has resulted in probable bruises on my upper arm. I glance at his hand, which is still there, and come to the sudden, bizarre realization that Ryuga has really nice hands. The effect is ruined, though, because I don't want it there, and it's cold. He feels like a dead body fresh from the morgue. "You don't have to drag me around. If I tried to run off I'd only get lost. I've lived here for less than a month; it's not as if I know my way around and I've never been in this part of the city anyways."

His unflinching gaze is starting to bother me and I look down. He's not wearing any socks. I should have just worn my pajamas after all.

"There is a eighty percent chance that you are lying. Those chances are too high. I'm sorry, Miss Hill," he says for the second time today. He still sounds less than sorry, and although his grip on my arm loosens it's still still there. I hate the feeling of his cold and clammy hands, and even more so the feeling of him pulling me out of the car. It's a sudden movement and it makes my head spin, very likely because I'm nervous.

Luckily, I gain my footing quickly. Ryuga starts walking the instant I appear steady, and with my being dragged around with him I have no choice but to follow. I'm aware that the butler is following me - us? This makes it impossible for me to get away, even if Ryuga wasn't clinging to my arm. Even if I do know my way around.

"So we're here now. I hope you're planning on telling me why the hell you're doing this," I say as we enter, but again receive an uncomfortable silence in return.

The interior of the hotel is stunning. It's so full of crystal chandeliers and exquisite decorations that I come to the conclusion that Ryuga does not belong here, and neither to I. Our simplicity clashes with everything from the floors to the clerk's uniform. It's absolutely shameful and I curse myself for having such a poor sense of fashion. My disheveled hair and self-made clothing sticks out like a sore thumb. It's a good thing that Ryuga's here to cover for me or I'd look like some kind of ignoramus.

He denies me the pleasure of basking in it all by suddenly releasing my arm to pull me by the hand, which, I soon realize, is probably for appearances. It's best that Ryuga isn't blatantly abusive in public, although he hasn't done anything awful in private either. Still, I personally prefer him yanking my arm to the suggestive image left by his holding my hand and dragging me to as hotel room, of all places.

Needless to say, Ryuga doesn't know any of this or care, and after an unbearable silent elevator ride, we arrive at the largest and most luxurious suite I have ever laid eyes on. It's decorated beautifully, but that's where it gets yet better. The entire place smells of chocolate and a variety of other candies, a hint of cologne, and behind that is the pleasant aroma of some kind of food in the making. It's a savory smell, and I can taste it on the tip of my tongue. If it is at all as good as it smells, the ride here was almost worth it.

Almost.

I doubt Ryuga will give me any of his sweets, though. And as Ryuga comes to mind, I notice that my hand is at my side and the butler is standing beside me, probably to escort me to the table. It should be Ryuga's job, but it's not as if the man has any manners. So, again, I let the butler lead me around until I'm seated at a table across from Ryuga. He's digging around in a piece of cake, and holding the fork in his usual way - pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger.

"So are you planning on enlightening me? Why am I here, Ryu-"

"Ryuzaki." His voice rings out, and I hear his voice echoing over, over, over in my head. It bounces off the sides of my skull. Ryuzaki? Does that mean he's been lying about his identity on an even deeper level than I am? Not just his personality, but his name? I examine his face. His eyes are slightly narrowed, although they're so big it's almost hard to tell. His eyes are deep, empty pits, void of emotion, and I can tell he's scrutinizing my every action, word, change of face.

"Yes, Ryuzaki. Why am I here? I've tried to be patient, but I am becoming annoyed at the lack of information you've provided me," I remark softly, my voice reverberating with all the anger I've stored up from today. It's quite chilling, actually. I didn't know I had the ability to put so much hatred into a statement that could hardly be considered hostile.

"I have taken an interest in a criminal investigation." His retort is spoken in a cool manner. He may as well have said that he doesn't care how angry I am. But, then, Ryug-Ryuzaki may as well have said that several times today. I don't doubt it, either. The nerve of him is astounding, but sometimes it's almost admirable. "I have a request to make of you, and I decided that the most prudent way to do it would be in a private setting. The gravity of the situation is unimaginable and it's very important that you understand that."

"Oh?" I snort. "So you're going to ask me a favor after forcibly bringing me here and treating me with very little respect as a person overall? As it happens, you've wrongly identified yourself at least twice. I see no reason for me to help you since you've proven to be untrustworthy." I have to confess that I'm very put off by how straightforward he was. He bypassed all pleasantries and got right to the point. That's good, I suppose, seeing as I don't think I could take them.

"Miss Hill, I am aware that you too have taken an interest in the Kira case," he answers, and his gaze seems to turn to ice. Of course he knows that. After all, "Ryuga" left a message on my Kira-related document. At the same time, I don't understand why he's chosen to contact me about the Kira case. As it stands, I currently have no significant connections to that case… unless… he suspects me? I have done nothing to bring suspicion upon myself that I know of.

"Yes, I have. But who hasn't? The Kira case is still big news."

"You've developed an obsession, Miss Hill. I saw that document. There's only one other civilian I know of who's gone to such trouble to research that case and to gain factual information about it. This sets you apart from the general public and it is why I feel confident is asking a favor of you."

"Yes, speaking of that, why did you hack me in the first place, and what else did you download?" I bite my lip a little. It's doubtful that he will give me this information, but I have to ask. After all, it still upsets me that he had the nerve to do that.

"I was originally intending to clear you of any possible suspicion by searching your laptop and continuing to speak with you at To-oh, but the intelligence you had gathered caught my attention. After careful consideration, I decided that I wanted to discuss the case with you personally. In order to ensure this, I caught your attention by sending you a message. After typing up the message, I downloaded everything."

At least he's honest. What he's saying makes sense to me, but I still choose to place very little faith in it. He's already proven himself to be a liar once, so why not twice? I wouldn't blame him if he mistrusted me, and I'm sure he does. "That sounds reasonable to me," I decide, my voice suddenly blank.

"That's good. Based off of our conversation earlier, you do not consider Light Yagami a friend. Am I correct in assuming this?" This is important. I can tell by his tone of voice, suddenly a little lower and intense.

"No, he's not my friend. He's simply someone who tolerates my company. Why is this of importance?" I know why. Light Yagami is tied up in this case somehow. That question and the interrogation yesterday is enough to tell me that. "This can't be entirely unrelated to that request you mentioned earlier."

I suddenly realize that throughout this conversation, everything, everyone else, has dropped off the radar. I can only see the man in front of me. His voice if the only sound, and the only thing I can feel is the tension sparking through the atmosphere. All my thoughts and all of the energy I could possibly gather are devoted to this conversation. Like it's a matter of life and death. My eyes meet Ryuzaki's again, and I have a feeling that this discussion is about to reach its high point. I was right. My move to Japan will make or break me, and in the future, I'm sure everything will trace back to this discussion.

"This task will come with many risks," Ryuga tells me, the intensity in his usually blank voice becoming stronger. "And I'm afraid it is no longer a request, Miss Hill. You must remain close to Light Yagami. Any input you could contribute to the investigation would be of great use to me in proving that he is Kira."

It's as I thought, but when I swallow the saliva that's pooled in my mouth, it's like swallowing a stone. He's telling me to spy on someone he believes to be Kira.

I could die.

But, off of the top of my head, a thought, random, uncalled for, and probably ill-timed makes and appearance. _Ryuzaki doesn't wear cologne, and I certainly didn't smell anything on the old guy. So why did I smell some earlier?_

"I'm spying for you, then," I say. On the surface, it appears a question, but it's rhetorical and both of us know it. "The least you can do is tell me who you are." _That cologne sure smelled familiar._

Isn't Light's dad a cop? It's far fetched, but what if they wore the same cologne?

"I thought that was quite clear by now, Miss Hill," says Ryuzaki plainly. He scratches his thick hair like a money picking for bugs, and I cling to the hope that my theory is wrong. "I am L."

It wasn't.

* * *

**This chapter is the longest one so far. Sorry it took me a couple of days to get it posted!**

**Now that I've gotten a little better at keeping L from veering sharply OOC, I'm having a lot of fun writing this. I hope you all enjoy reading it just as much!**

**Thanks to the anonymous viewer for bringing the length of the early chapters into question! They were pretty short but I've been bringing up the length since I noticed that. As for my blank writing style, I'm not sure what you mean by that, so you'd have to elaborate. Sorry! If you're referring to how it often seems devoid of emotion, that's because Leila thinks that way. Emotions, with exceptions to a few, take the backseat to real life, if that makes sense.**

**Thanks again to all the awesome followers and everyone who has faved!**

**I hit 400 views today, so thanks to everyone who's reading. You guys are all so great, especially since I wasn't expecting any attention at all.**

**The next chapter should be up within a couple of days!**


	8. Put On Your Armor

It shouldn't be such a surprise to me, but it's the biggest shock that's hit me yet.

Ryuga, or Ryuzaki, is actually L. L, the great detective, with over 3,000 cases credited to him. L, who promised to bring Kira to justice. L. L, who hacked into my laptop. That was _L_.

I had offered myself a theory only moments before "Ryuzaki" revealed his identity. The cologne was what got the idea started, and it went from there. But in the few seconds I had to think about the theory, I desperately hoped Ryuzaki was simply Ryuzaki.

I can't deny it, though. The man in front of me hacked my laptop, gained access to all of my personal documents, basically threatened me with his knowledge of me, and dragged me here. This supports his being L because only someone with an unimaginable amount of power could sit across from me and look so calm. He looks calm because he knows he can get away with it. After all, what law enforcer would dare arrest the great L?

Besides, I once heard a story of someone who was killed by a gang because they claimed to be L. In fact, I'm sure it's happened multiple times. The man crouching opposite me is obviously very intelligent, and I doubt he would risk his life to tell me some preposterous lie.

L is supposed to be secretive, though. Why would he reveal his face to me? No… why would he go to To-Oh and reveal his face to everyone there? If Light is truly a suspect, this is a huge gamble for L. He has to know by now that all Kira needs to kill is a name and a face, and if Light is Kira, all he needs now is L's name. I have to remind myself that this is L, and he has taken great lengths to protect his identity, even before Kira. And it's not as if he's told Light he's L. Unless… I remember the entrance ceremony, and watching Light's expression as they walked back to their seats. I remember feeling an air of apprehension.

L revealed himself to his suspect.

For once, I don't use my face to erase my thoughts. After all, this whole time, I've gotten the feeling that Ryuga/Ryuzaki/L can see right through me. It would be practically impossible for me to conceal, anyways. As I'm thinking all this, my eyes widen as if on their own accord. My lips part slightly, and I begin to breathe so slowly, so softly, it's as if I've stopped altogether. "Is that so?" My voice is no longer cold and it's hard labor to keep from stuttering. Instead, my voice is brimming with curiosity. There's no denying it - my regrets relating to this incident have completely dissipated. "It's an honor to meet you as L, but I'm not sure how much help I can be."  
On the other hand, knowing L personally could easily be deadly. If word got out, I'd probably be dead faster than L can eat a slice of cake (which happens to be considerably quickly). Besides that, if I slip up and reveal anything about this meeting, I'd probably be worse than confined. He doesn't even have to make me sign a confidentiality agreement. L doesn't need me to agree to anything - he's L, and I am less than L.

"Light appears to be quite taken with you," L tells me baldly, as if it's something he says every day. _Taken _with _me? _I'm fairly certain that Kiyomi Takada, otherwise known as Miss To-Oh, is working up the courage to ask him out. If that's truly the case, I don't stand a chance; Light would have to be insane to turn down Takada. Besides, Light already makes me feel ill at ease and doubtful of who he actually is in general. And now that L has labeled him as a Kira suspect, I'm sure it will only get worse. "I'm sure you could become much closer to him if you actually put in the effort," L says, and it almost sounds as if he's reprimanding me. For what? Not getting close to Light earlier?

I suppose it might be true that Light appears to enjoy my presence. I remember his embrace, and remember smelling the cologne through his shirt. As sweet as that may sound, I also remember walking away from it coated in a layer of his sweat.

L apparently notices that I have nothing to say, or that there is nothing I can say, and I swear I see the beginnings of a smile light up his pale, tired-looking face. It's adorable in the same way a puppy wagging its tail is adorable, but in this case the puppy is wagging its tail because it's stolen your shoes and is running away with them. He knows I'm annoyed and possibly disgusted by his statement, and he loves it.

"Of course I'll do it…" My voice trails off as I speak. L has asked me to do what I'm best at, and I feel confident in my skills to lie, especially to Light. He's so popular with the girls at school that I'm sure he'll see no reason to be suspicious of me for jumping on the Light bandwagon.

"By the way, you're not planning on eating that chocolate cake, are you?' he asks, and I snap back to reality. I can feel the table edges, gripped so tightly that my knuckles are white. I can take in my surroundings. And, most importantly, I can see a beautiful piece of cake in front of me. I can tell by looking at it that it's moist and airy, and the smell shows that it's a dark chocolate flavor. The icing almost looks like chocolate mousse, and there are white chocolate shavings on the top. The only problem is that there's a strawberry leaning up against it and I dislike the combination of fruit and chocolate.

"I'll have it, actually, but do you want the strawberry?" I pick it up by the leaves and toss it across the table. After all, I did see him obsessing over some strawberry shortcake earlier, so I assume he'll take it.

I remember eating lunch with him the other day, but I didn't want to pay him any attention and didn't notice how he eats. It's… interesting. At first I'm sure he's going to chide me for throwing something at him, but he catches the fruit in his signature pinch and stares at me with the widest eyes I've seen from him yet. Then, his mouth opens. It's vast, so much so that I wonder if he's found a way to unhinge his jaw like a snake. I'm reminded of watching a video in which a grass snake swallowed an egg about three times the size of its head, and I wonder why he feels the need to do _that _over a berry. He leans his head back and holds the berry over his mouth. The he drops the strawberry, chews it up, and drops the leaves onto his plate. I see his throat move as he swallows, and then L looks down from the ceiling and back at me. "Thank you, Miss Hill. After you finish that cake, you're free to go."

_What the hell? I thought I was here for lunch, not just dessert. _I look down at my cake and back up at L, and decide that he probably designed the menu. He probably thinks it's perfectly okay for everyone to eat sweets all of the time. I don't have a particularly high metabolism and I have to work hard to stay a good weight, but one slice of cake isn't going to kill me. I get a forkful and let it sit in my mouth. It's even better than it looked, and I decide that as long as I can have some more of this cake, I'll definitely work for L. I may have a heart if stone, but the power of chocolate is a mighty one.

"I apologize, Miss Hill. We spent a lot of time discussing the Kira case and your future actions, and as a result I decided to skip the main course and treat you to dessert."

This guys sees right through everything. Or maybe he _does _know that it's not normal to have chocolate cake for lunch. Either way, I don't have a problem with it. I'd have to be very stupid to complain about this. Things certainly could have turned out far worse.

I walk out of the hotel with a much better mood than when I walked in.

I even talk to the butler a little. He knows what I'm really like by now, but talking to him helps me ease my mask back on by being overly friendly. "I'm sorry I never asked earlier. I was in a vile mood. But what should I call you?"

The old man looks me in the eyes, and I realize that not only do I respect him for putting up with L, but he gives off a fatherly vibe that I never got from my dad. He smiles, and it's so kind I find it hard not to smile back. "It's best that you refer to me as Watari, but only in the proper settings."

"Of course," I answer, but I'm actually a little shocked. I knew that a man called Watari was the person who connected the police to L, but I'd never expected him to be an old man who seemed to fill the role of a servant. "So, I have to ask. Did you make that cake?"

"Yes, I do fill the role of cook for Ryuzaki. He informed me that you seemed to be fond of chocolate in particular." Funny. I don't remember directly mentioning that, but maybe he guessed that because of how I first bumped into him - over a piece of chocolate cake.

"It was excellent, thanks," I nod as he stops in front of my apartment. "Have a lovely day!" Watari walks around the car and opens my door like a proper gentleman, and before I step out he hands me a small package.

"This is from Ryuzaki," he informs me, pressing the small box into my hand before bidding me well and driving away.

I job to my apartment and decide that I'm in dire need of a shower. I only had time to change clothes before leaving for "lunch" and I feel pretty gross. I set the small package on the counter and begin to walk to the bathroom, but I glance back at the package. I have a sudden desire to open it up and get what's inside. After all, it's from Ryuzaki and it's probably important, because I can't imagine receiving a token of affection and I don't _want _to imagine it, either.

My eyes dart to my arm, which is visibly covered in sweat, and choose to shower first. I gather up some clothes at random and start up my shower.

For some people, the shower is a great place to think, but for me it's the opposite. I use a shower to clear my mind and allow myself only to think about the present. The feeling of boiling hot water running through my hair and down my body is relaxing, and they steam that fills the bathroom makes me feel safe and rooted to where I am; after all, I can't see far from where I'm standing with the white wall of mist blocking me. All that matters is what I can see, what I can feel, and the beautiful sound of the water hitting the floor. During a shower is the only time my mind isn't kicked into overdrive, and as much as I hate to admit it, I like that.

It all ends the second I step out of the shower, or course,but that's okay. Even a brief peace is comforting. I pull on my clothes and slam open the bathroom door, stomping out and letting my wet hair drip onto the floor.

I sit down in front of the package and stare at it expectantly, wondering what it will hold. I can't think of what Ryuzaki would feel the need to give me. Whatever it is, it's in a very plain white box and the lid is stuck on with Scotch tape. I use my fingernails to slice through the tape and gingerly remove the lid, unveiling something that looks kind of like a really small laptop screen. There's a button on the side, and when I press it, it lights up. I read about something like this a while ago; it's some kind of technology they're working on. A phone of some kind. But if it's still in the works, how did Ryuzaki get one?  
Not thirty seconds from my getting the phone out of the box, it rings. I almost drop it, but luckily regain my composure quickly enough to catch it. The screen has lit up, and a green button with a picture of a phone appears on the screen. I tap it with my finger. The screen is cool and smooth, and it's very interesting to see how it reacts to my touch. I hold it to my ear, expecting the voice of L. After all, he's the only one who would know to call me on this phone.

Speaking of which, it's interesting that he knew to call me with perfect timing again. I'd have thought he would have tried calling me earlier, but instead he called just as he opened the package. I expect that he's manipulating the camera on my laptop again, and when I look over my shoulder, my laptop has somehow managed to turn itself on. I roll my eyes at it and thank my lucky stars that I changed in the bathroom. I have no doubt that ghoulish perv would have watched if he could.

"Miss Hill." I'm sort of surprised to hear L's synthetic voice, the same one he used when he challenged Kira. And I know it's really L, too. There's no mistaking the cool monotone underneath the layers of synth. "This is what you will use to contact me as L," the synth voice commands. "I'm quite pleased to see that it's working."

"How did you get this, anyways?" I wonder aloud. "I didn't know this kind of technology was out yet."

"It's not," says the voice, its tone not changing, as if it's supremely normal to possess something like this before most of the public has even heard about it. Since it's L, I decide, it probably _is _normal. "I managed to acquire it early."

"Of course," I answer, not sounding too impressed; after all, my initial awe has worn off and I realize that things such as this should probably be expected from a guy like L. Besides, it was made rather clear from the state of the hotel L was staying in: he likes to have the best of everything. "If I understand you correctly, if you had any reason to contact me as Hideki Ryuga you would do so via my other phone?"

"That's correct. I want to make it very clear that that your other phone is to be used for everything else. This phone is a means of contacting me only, for security purposes, of course. Please refrain from taking this out in public unless I call you…" Of course. This phone would definitely stick out, and I am suddenly inspired to ask a question.

"Why did you get me a phone that sticks out so much? Wouldn't it be easier to keep it touch with me using a more average phone?"

"This phone has the ability to download files and access the internet. I don't want to send you anything on your laptop as it's too easily hacked." The synthetic voice sounds almost amused - that's experience speaking. "Besides that, any calls made on this phone can't be tapped or traced. It's safer for both of us that way."

I nod; after all, he can certainly see since he's got uninhibited access to my laptop's camera. I suppose that means I should begin closing my laptop whenever I'm not using it. "Anything else?"

"Please make a point of contacting me the next time you see Light." The phone makes a quiet beeping noise that tell me L hung up on me, and I set it back onto the counter. I feel my feet pound into the floor as I walk over to the laptop and close it gently. Then I dig my phone - my personal phone - and dig it out of my purse.

I have another call to make.

* * *

"I'm looking forward to it!" Light's jovial cry echoes through my head. He sounds so enthusiastic about this whole "date" thing that I almost feel bad for deceiving him.

"I am too!" I say, making sure that I sound unbelievably excited, After all, even if I'm not a romantic, I know any girl should feel lucky to have a date with a guy like Light Yagami. He's the ideal: handsome, very clever, a top student at a top school, and charming as they come. "You've made my day, Light! I'll see you, then!"

I hang up and shove my phone in my pocket, feeling triumphant. I never thought that would actually work, especially since Light has a lot of better looking girls after him. But L had hinted at Light's supposed "crush" on me, and I decided to take a gamble. It seems that it was a good choice, although if Light is really Kira, it's unlikely that he really has feelings for me. In fact, if Light's Kira and I'm found out, the only feelings he'll have will probably be the thrill of murdering me. The thought doesn't put me at ease but I did agree to do this.

If I want to keep Light as my boyfriend, I should probably dress a little more classy than usual at our first date, which means I'll have to go shopping… again.

* * *

I get to this store that's full of cutesy clothes, a lot of which is Goth-Lol. I look around on a lot of the shelves for something that appears to fit my simplistic style of dress, but all the designs manage to be noisy even though most of them are just black and white. The ones that aren't noisy are… well, they're skimpy. It's a miracle that any of the designers involved with this store still have jobs.

I sigh with disappointment and begin to walk out of the store, my feet falling heavily onto the ground. I've been shopping for hours and haven't found anything satisfactory. I push the door open and stick one foot out when I feel and hand touch my shoulder. My whole body tenses at the gentle touch, but when I turn around I realize that it's only one of those sales girls. She dressed in clothing that I have actually looked at in this store, and she's pointing towards a rack of clothing, so it's a dead giveaway. The complex design of her clothing suits her well, and the black of the lace and fabric contrasts beautifully with her pale skin and blond hair.

"Hey, please don't go! This is Misa-Misa's favorite store! Misa will help you find something pretty!" _Who the hell's Misa? _I study the girl's face, which is very, very familiar for some reason. I suddenly realized she's grabbed my wrist and I can't deny this bubbly girl, with her wide eyes and perfect face and huge smile. When I step back into the store, she pulls a victorious expression and practically dances to the clothes she was pointing at.

"Misa loves to bring beauty to the world, and noticed that you could use some help!" She turned her head back to me and noticed my raised eyebrows, causing her to add, "Misa will challenge herself to make you even prettier than you already are, llll - uh…"

What was that noise she just made out of nowhere? This girl's stupidity makes me want to gag. It's clear now that she's referring to herself in third person and she doesn't work here at all. "Leila," I answer, as sweetly as I possibly can. "I'm so honored that you would assist me… Misa-Misa." I was right. This girl is familiar because she models for a bunch of magazines directed at people my age.

"Leila!" she cries cheerfully, spinning once on the spot and pulling five outfits from the rack at once. I notice that she's picking out things that are at least partially her style; for one thing, each outfit seems to have a crap ton of lace. "Misa wants to know, what's the occasion?" Her eyes sparkle mischievously and I swallow. She's making me super nervous. Almost as nervous as when I first met "Hideki Ryuga".

"It's a date," I say, and note that I don't have to try hard to sound excited. I've never actually been on a date before.

"Misa-Misa will do her best then! Leila must impress her date, yes?" She glances at my current outfit and then at the five she's holding in her hand. She puts three back onto the rack, to my great relief, and shoves the other two into my arms. "Try them on!" she trills, shoving me towards the back of the store where the changing rooms are.

I force out a high pitched, fangirlish giggle and squeal. "Okay, okay! Just wait a minute!" I scamper into a room and close the curtains, shaking my head once I get inside. I hang the outfits on the door and begin to strip off my outer layer of clothing. My shirt and jeans land in a messy pile on the floor, and I pull one of the outfits on at random. It's a dress, and it's completely black except for a white lace collar and belt. It's not my style, and it looks odd on me anyways. I expect that Misa - Misa Amane - will want to have a look at me, though, so I open the curtain.

She was apparently becoming impatient, because she's standing right outside of the curtain and was very likely about to peek in. I feel a blush spreading up my neck just _thinking _how humiliating that would be. She doesn't say anything, though, until she's looked me up and down. "Hmmm… Misa thinks you should try the other one," she declares, squinting at me and pulling the curtains closed in my face.

I change into the second outfit as quickly as possible so that Misa doesn't grow impatient with me again. This one is a skin tight crop top, but it's quite modest and only shows about two inches of my midriff. It's white until you get to the part that borders my stomach, which is covered with black lace. The skirt is white and has horizontal stripes made from black lace. It's not exactly my style, but it looks okay on me and accentuates my curves. This outfit alone makes me appreciate Misa's help since it makes my too-small curves more obvious, but it's still modest and sort of makes me look innocent. Light seems the type to be attracted to innocence, so I feel that the outfit could work for me.

In the end, I spend so much time ogling myself in the small mirror that Misa bursts into the dressing room unannounced and turns me around for her to see. "Misa likes this one!" She motions for me to turn on several occasions and I decide that she's too charismatic for her own good. "Misa thinks you should get this one to please your boyfriend!" Woah. I love how she went from "date" to "boyfriend".

* * *

"Thanks, Misa!" I yell cheerfully as I walk out of the store after changing and checking out. It's my greatest desire to get out of there before she tries to seriously discuss underwear, which she brought up shortly before my buying the outfit she checked out.

"Misa hopes your date goes well!" she calls, waving over her head as I hurry away.

That has got to be the weirdest shopping trip I've ever had in my entire life.

* * *

The next time I wear that dress is ten days after the shopping trip. Light and I had to schedule our so-called "date" around his life since he's been so busy. The guy overworks himself, to be honest. Recently, I noticed that, while he doesn't have L-level bags, Light has almost invisible shadows under his eyes. Now, each time I see his face, I keep seeing them there and wonder what he's doing to get himself so tired. He's probably studying extra… or something.

He's supposed to be stopping by my apartment to come and get me any minute now. I pull on my blood red Converses, which admittedly look a bit odd with the rest of my outfit. I make myself think of one of those crappy photos that all beginning photo editors create: a black-and-white shot with a single, bright red flower in the center. I hope Light doesn't think the same thing, but since he was willing to hang out with me all the other times I've dressed without thought, I don't see why this time should be any different.

I plan on calling L after our date, of course. That was L's purpose in getting that phone, and I'll put it to good use. I tuck L's phone deeply into my bag, but my personal phone is setting at the top of all the rest of the junk shoved into it. I hear a knock on the door, soft and short, that interrupts my thoughts. The intrusive noise snaps me back to all that is reality, and I slide my purse over my elbow while I shuffle over to the door. My heart is pounding like crazy. Hormones… even I'm vulnerable to them, apparently.

"Light?" I say, opening the door slowly and blinking at the sight before me. Light is actually dressed more casually than usual. His shirt is black and tight, and it is with a sudden knotting of my intestines that I realize I can see his muscles underneath it. _Shit. _I can _not _let myself get distracted. "Wow, you look nice," I say, and give him the most calm smile I manage. He's looking me up and down, and I've never liked that feeling.

"You too!" Light answers and laughs, holding out his hand. "We should go. We have to catch the bus to get to the restaurant, so we can't be late." I hesitantly touch his hand with the tips of my fingers, and he takes the chance to cover my entire hand with his own. When I stand next to him, my forearm is pressed against his and our fingers are intertwined. Light looks quite pleased with the situation, but I turn my head away slightly to hide the beet-red blush creeping up my neck and across my cheeks.

We walk along the sidewalk, occasionally bringing up something that leads to small talk. Everything from Light's grades to my job comes up at least once. He mentions his little sister barging into his room all the time for homework help, and I laugh at him. After all, it was intended as a funny story, and if you want people to like you, you laugh at each jokes whether it's funny or not.

When we step into the bus, Light ushering me in first and following close behind, we sit near the back of the bus together. I sit very close to him, but avoid leaning into him to much on a first date. Being too clingy will simply lead to his getting bored early in the relationship. He talks some more, his eyes sometimes closed, and his body language suggesting that he was relaxed. His mouth forms a smile that appears to be gentle, but sometimes I look at his face and wonder if he's actually thinking about our conversation, or if he's talking about something else.

"...and then he just shoves the entire doughnut in his mouth at once," Light says, ending another installment of "The Lifelong Sugar High of Hideki Ryuga". I snort in response, and the reaction is real, because I don't doubt what Light is saying. After all, I noticed when I ate with him the other day, I noticed that he practically unhinges his jaw when he eats things. I'm sure L could eat a doughnut whole, no problem. Or a watermelon.

"Watching him eat is so funny," I add, shaking my head and smiling in spite of myself. "You remember when you introduced me to Ryuga? We had lunch together and he polished off an entire platter of sweets in less than ten minutes."  
"Yeah, he's a bit of a glutton," Light acknowledges, laughing, and I decide it's the first time I've actually enjoyed his laugh. It's genuinely cheerful, and on top of that, he seems quite happy to hear someone bashing Ryuga. "I don't think I've ever seen him eat anything besides sweet foods, and too much of it at that."

"What I want to know is how he stays so _skinny_," I wonder. "If I could eat like that and not have to run it off, I would."

"Speaking of Ryuga…" Here we go. Light's getting to something that's quite important to him, apparently. "That day, after Psychology… what did he want? He didn't bother you, did he?" Light almost manages to come off as more concerned that curious. Almost.

"He didn't bother me too bad," I respond, and chuckle for good measure. I wish he hadn't asked me that, though, because I don't have an excuse prepared. "He… wanted to know I was…" I let myself redden slightly for effect. "...if I was interested in you."

"Oh," says Light, sounding relieved. He probably wants to cover it up, since there shouldn't be anything for him to be relieved about, so he quickly asks, "I bet he's jealous! Haha!"

I laugh again, but enjoy it less since his laugh is shallow. Cover for a mess-up, one that he thinks I'm unintelligent enough to look over. It seems that Light does not know about my life at To-Oh, and this evidence helps me come to the calming conclusion that L really hasn't spread my personal information around.

We're at the restaurant before I know it, and I'm sitting across from him in an environment that makes a repulsive attempt to be romantic. The light is dim and the decorative style modern but classy. The place gives off an air of warmth and I despise it.

I take a minute to wonder how I can do this. How can I come even close to acting as Light's girlfriend? I suppose the answer lies in who I've become. I've learned to behave as a real girl, and in order to do that, I suppose I've learned how average people assess each other. I'm sure I've been doing it all along, but now I consciously take the time to look at Light the way any other girl would.

In general, he's handsome. His skin is smooth and looks soft, and it seems to glow even in this dim light. His smile is radiant and shows his perfect, straight, white teeth. His eyes are pretty, too, and his hair matches them beautifully in color. Light is well groomed, and his sense of style only makes him more appealing. Besides that, Light always seems to be effortlessy kind to everyone he meets. It's easy to see why all the girls at school are attracted to him, and why I don't have to try too hard to act as if I am. I feel as if I've just confessed something to myself, and the more I think about it, I have. Even I am susceptible to hormones, and I must be careful not to be tempted by them.

Looking at Light causes me to swallow my thoughts. I should be a more attentive date or this will all go downhill.

There's a shock heading my way, though; Light's not being too attentive himself. He's glancing around, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised. Something has him worked up, I when I look up, the reason is clear.

The place was full when we got here, but in the past few moments, more than half of the customers have cleared out. The people left are either like Light and I, eyes darting around the room with startled curiosity, or they're on their phones. In less than a minute, I witness three people answer a phone call only to assume a shocked expression and leave.

"Light?" I call, although he's just across from me. I adopt the position of intimidated girlfriend, and let my face melt into a frightened one. "What's going on?"

Light responds only by shaking his head and standing up. "Maybe there's something going on outside." He holds out his hand and I frown before taking it into my own and standing up. "We should probably go and see what it is…" He releases my hand and begins to walk hurriedly towards the exit, and I follow suit.

As it happens, there's nothing to see. The streets are mostly peaceful, but what's odd is how few people are out. As usual, the city is lit up, but that's about all that's normal. Fewer cars and fewer people in general are out, and those that are seem in a rush for some reason. "I wonder if something happened to make everyone head home…" I wonder aloud, and feel uncomfortable out on the streets. If everyone else is rushing home, common sense tells me I should do the same.

"My house is nearby here. If the streets aren't safe for some reason, we should go there," Light commands me, but in a gentle voice that tells me he feels the need to calm me down.

"O-okay, Light." His _house_? I'm not eager to go there, to be honest, but I might learn something new about Light if I go to his house. And, after all, I'm supposed to be helping L look into him.

On the walk back, I cling to his arm. I try to act terrified, which really is very hard since I'm less scared than I am curious. Even if there was a threat on the streets, I've got Light with me and his house really is close. It takes us only minutes to walk there.

Light opens the door using his key and calls, "I'm home!" I hear some female voices in the background, but no one responds to Light. He gently pulls me inside by my wrist and closes the door.

We walk into his living room and join his sister and mother, watching the television, just in time to see an armored police vehicle crash through the front of a building.

_What is going on?_

* * *

**Hey, you all! Thanks for reading!  
I've gotten so much support, even if some of it was behind the scenes, I'm really grateful!**

**Thanks to all the faves and follows, you all c:**


	9. Gemini

I completely zone out for a minute. Maybe even two. I can't register what just happened,

"...it is an official police announcement, no spokesperson has to appear on the screen." A sound, a voice, can be heard just behind that of the reporter on the Yagami family's television. I listen hard, and notice that the voice reminds me of L. Not his true voice, but the synthetic one. I wonder, where is that voice coming from? The only way we'd be able to hear it over that reporter would be if it was playing on one of the large screens in town.

It's then that I notice the actual picture, and the words begin to fade out. The first thing I notice is that there's no reporter, just a voiceover, and behind where she would usually stand are the bodies of three men. They're in uniform - police officers, and they are limp on the ground. I suppose they could just be knocked out, but I know the truth. They're dead, and my stomach twists into an even tighter knot. There is a lack of blood around them, and I swallow. This is Kira's doing.

I look over at Light, intending to say something, but my thoughts are lost. Light's face is… well, it's enough to inspire pure terror. Genuine anger rolls off of him, and his face is one of hatred. I noticed something, hidden deep underneath his mask of righteous anger. He looks insulted… or offended? I shake my head. I'm probably right but I need to focus on what's going on.

The garbled background voice has vanished completely. My confusion seems to have no end. The announcement… _Kira's _announcement… has been stopped. The TV screen has blackened.

Light's face is surprised as I imagine mine to be. His brown eyes glow with frustration, but everything else seemed to scream shock.

"L-light?" I say, trembling and playing the role of horrified girlfriend. "What's happening?"

His eyes meet mine and he opens his mouth, but his mom and sister notice me for the first time. "Light, who is this?" his mother asks. From her voice, it's simple to deduce that she's halfway between horrified and curious. I wonder how much she's allowed to know about Light's life. Maybe that's why she looks so shocked to see me - Light may not have told her about our date.

Light's sister, Sayu, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. "Liiiiiiight," she squeals, seemingly forgetting the terrifying broadcast that was cut off only moments ago. "You didn't tell us that you had a _girlfriend_." She's adorable, her cheeks pink and her smile charming. Sayu immediately comes off as someone with great innocence, and I know she probably thinks Light and I are going to go Disney on her without a second thought.

"Mrs. Yagami," I say, bowing nervously. "It's so nice to meet you! And Light's told me so much about you, Sayu!"

"O-oh," says Mrs. Yagami, recovering quickly and adopting a motherly smile. "Yes, I believe Light mentioned he'd be seeing someone, but I forgot in all the chaos. I just came home from visiting my husband, you see…"

"Visiting your…"

"Oh," says Light, butting into the conversation. "My father… he overworked himself and suffered a heart attack. He's in the hospital recovering."

"I see," I say, frowning. "I'm so sorry. I hope he's doing well?"

"He is," responded Mrs. Yagami with a smile. "I do hope he wasn't watching that broadcast, though. I can't imagine what it would cause him to feel…"

Mrs. Yagami seems to drift off into a different world, but I still have Sayu's full attention. "So how did you two lovebirds meet?" she squealed, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together. "Was it at school?" Sayu is practically dancing, she's so full of energy. I have never been like that, and it pains me to admit that I'm envious of her.

"Well," I begin. "I actually met Light because -"

Much to my annoyance, Light interrupts me. "Don't bother Leila, Sayu. I promise I'll tell you all about her later." He smiles at her in the odd way that siblings always smile at eachother, and then grabs my hand to walk me upstairs.

"Light?" I hear his mother say, and I notice the stress lacing her voice. Stress, concern, and something else. That weird mix of emotions puts me on alert. Light is taking me upstairs… to his bedroom. I've never been to his house, but that's it. I know it.

I'm sure Light doesn't expect too much on a first date. Liar or not, Light is a decent enough young man, and even though the idea of being in his bedroom bothers me a little, the feeling isn't too bad. I knew what I was getting myself into, anyways, when I asked him out. So, while we reach his bedroom door, I decide to ponder something else for a moment. There's only one question I can bring to mind. _Why didn't he want me to speak with Sayu?_

"I'm sorry to pull you out of there, Leila, but my mother was very worked up," Light offers. The concerned son act is certainly very convincing in most cases, but I just don't find it believable. "I was afraid that a stranger being in a room along with that heated situation on the news would be too much."

"I understand, Light. It's so sweet that you care for your mother like that," I respond, and hesitantly sit on the edge of his bed. I'm suddenly aware of how pale his skin is, but anger can do that to you. "I don't know how I'm going to get back home… it doesn't look as if I should wander around tonight." I sigh, biting my lips. This could actually be a real problem.

Besides that, though, something strikes me as odd about this whole situation. I decided that, based off of the deaths and the scrambled voice in the background, that Kira was the one causing all this. But if Kira really was the one who sent that message, I don't even need to hear the whole thing to say it's very out of character. The Kira I've been researching has no need to use words to convey a message. I don't know much about the case at all, but I've noticed that everyone in a while, his patterns of killing change all at once and without warning. I'm sure that this is Kira's way of sending a message to the people smart enough to notice it. Otherwise, the changes in his killings would just bring unnecessary attention to him.

And, as an added note, there's no good reason for Kira to send a message now, of all times. Kira seems to have reasons for everything, including who he kills and sometimes even where his victims are. I don't know anything about the Kira case itself that the rest of the public doesn't know, but I noticed something when I was researching Kira's victims. Shortly after L challenged Kira on that broadcast last year and announced that he was in the Kanto region of Japan, each one of Kira's victims were imprisoned in or around the Kanto region of Japan. Kira was taunting L.

This leads me to believe that Kira does have a reason, for everything, and not just personal ones. I think his reasoning is usually something that could be figured out by anyone willing to dissect it.

But the timing in this case is too random. Something must have changed drastically in Kira's life to provoke this. or perhaps it's Kira himself who changed?

I squeeze my eyes shut to block everything else out. Light is on his laptop, so he shouldn't see me. I breathe deeply, inhale, exhale, inhale. I try to exhale again, to lean forward, to let my body collapse on itself. Just to relax.  
I can't. I can't, because I'm wrapped up in someone's arms. They're warm, and strong, and more welcoming than anything I've ever felt before. The smell like a spice cabinet, and I know it's Light holding me like this. Everything in my mind tells me to resist, that I don't like it, but my body rejects my mind. I _do _like it. The warmth is comforting, as is the feeling of someone holding me up and stopping me from falling to the floor.

"You looked so frightened…" says his voice, creeping into my thoughts. "I couldn't resist." I feel his fingers run through my hair, and his thumb tickles the side of my face as he runs his fingers down my pure white braid. I'm fascinated with the feeling of him touching me. No one has ever done that before, and knowing me, they probably never will again. My eyes slowly open as I feel myself pushed backwards slightly. The bed shifts a little as Light climbs up, and I feel a distinct rush of passion that has certainly been brought on by hormones. Light doesn't have to do anything - I pull myself into his lap and wrap my arms around his body. His muscles are loose under my arms, and I feel them shifting as I slide my hands up from his back to his neck. His light brown hair brushes my knuckles as he pulls my body closer to me, and my eyes closes when my lips meet his.

If I thought just being in contact with his was pleasurable, kissing him was far better. His lips are warm and soft, and they seem to fit perfectly against my own mouth. I can't breathe, but it doesn't seem to matter. This one kiss has fixed the entire night.

But I - we - don't end it with one kiss. Many kisses follow the first one, each one drawn up more than the last. It takes a few minutes, but before I know it, his tongue is stroking my lip, and I open my mouth to allow him entrance. The idea of someone's tongue sliding across my teeth was something I previously viewed as disgusting, but I actually find it quite pleasant.

Although it's just physical attraction, and I will probably never be attracted to Light in any other way, I come to an understanding with other people my age instantly. It's easy to see why so many people my age get around with each other so much. If kissing is this addicting, then intercourse would be a drug.

The kissing ends as quickly as it started, and I'm leaning into Light's chest, and almost panting. I know that I must be rather pink. It's a given that I would be a little flushed in a situation like this. Besides that, though, I'm filled with relief that the situation ended itself. I'm not sure how I would have done so if I'd needed to.

The rest of the night is silent, peaceful, perfect. I stay with Light. Nothing particularly eventful happens, but I still can't remember being this close to a person, ever.

I can only imagine how his mother felt when she saw me leaving… the next morning.

* * *

I pick up the black, thin phone in my hands and hesitantly tap the button on the side.

L hasn't called me yet, probably because my laptop is safely shut and he has no idea whether I'm at home or not. I still haven't found out exactly what was going on yesterday, but since I just got home from seeing Light, the most important thing is probably to contact L. That is, after all, what he requested of me, and the last thing I want to do is make L angry with me.

I turn the phone on and watch the screen light up, and then click a medium grey button in the corner. The button accesses some software that allows me to contact L directly. He didn't want to add himself to my speed dial, and obviously he couldn't give me a number, so instead I have an entire app devoted to contacting him. I have to plug in a password to do it, so I suppose it's safer for L _and _I that way.

I had thought that L would be a busy guy. After all, the world's best detective should be solving several cases at the same time, and the Kira case alone should occupy plenty of his time. But I'm quite wrong. The second the app opens completely and I plug in my password, the distorted voice seems to claw away at the inside of my head. "_Where have you been?_" snaps L, as if I've done something horribly wrong. He's yelling, and I hold the phone further away from my head. "Do you have any idea what happened yesterday? I've been waiting for a report."

"Relax," I growl, feeling rather offended at his tone of voice. I'm supposed to be informing him of Light's behavior, not calling him every time there's an occurrence regarding the Kira case. "I was with Light last night - you know, the guy you told me to keep an eye on for you?" I realize how incredibly rude I'm being, but I'm so bothered I can't stand it.

"I _expected _that someone as interested in the Kira case as you would have paid attention in spite of that. However, since it may not have been possible, I've sent you the videos regarding yesterday's incidents." His reply is cutting and he sounds almost disappointed of me, but I go out of my way to ignore him.

"Light and I saw the last couple of minutes of the broadcast. He didn't do anything overtly suspicious, but he did seem very… personally offended by the message in the background." I suddenly realize something else. One thing I know about Light is that he's been looking into the Kira case on his own time. He's just as intelligent as I am, and must have realized that the message in the background was Kira. It would be so unlike Light to distract himself with something like… well, kissing me when he _knew _something so important had happened. Light should have, and usually _would_ have been looking into that, even if I was there. I decide that, even if I don't want L to know the details of our date, I decide that this off behavior of Light's needs to be revealed. "There's another thing, too. Light didn't even pay any attention to the broadcast after it was over. He just… tried to distract himself. That didn't seem like him at all." I am satisfied with this and decide that I won't say anymore.

"Oh?" says L, back to his usual monotone. At the same time, I can't help but imagine that his thin eyebrows are lifted upon his head.

"Yes."

"I see."

"Okay."

"I assume you just got back home?" _Shit._

"Yes, I did." My voice snaps back to an irritated one as I add, "Can I go now?"  
"Contact me again the minute you watch those videos. I need to hear what you think of them."

He hangs up, but as I pull the phone from my ear, I notice that the screen is still on, and that there're Gothic font style letters in the center. I realize, with horror, that it reads "Kira". This must be the broadcast from yesterday, the one that frightened everyone into the safety of their homes. I suddenly notice something about the video. Lines, interference, maybe, appear over the picture and the letter deviates slightly from the center on occasion. Even worse is that fact that the letters are… pencil drawn.

A familiar noise fills my ears. It's the synth voice that, yesterday, made me think of L.

"I am Kira." _You don't say. _"If this video is aired at exactly 5:59 PM on April 18th, it is now 5:59 and 38, 39, 40 seconds…" Kira planned this to the second. What does that tell me about them. That they're OCD? Or that they knew… exactly when, to the second, that someone was going to die? That they knew it, because they could control it? It's not definitive, but it's certainly a possibility. "Please switch channels to Taiyo TV. the news anchor, Mr. Kazuhiko Hibimi, will die of a heart attack at precisely 6 PM." I suddenly see an image of a man collapsing, although I can still hear the "voice" of Kira before it switches back to the hand-drawn nametag.

Killing a news anchor? That's not Kira's style at all. I noticed something off about Kira yesterday, but this just keeps getting worse. "Mr. Hibimi has consistently referred to Kira as "evil" during his news reports. This was his punishment." Ah, so that's why. Still, it isn't Kira's style. I remember when he killed Lind L. Taylor, but that was because Kira thought he was L and L would have been a serious barrier in Kira's path. This news reporter, though… doesn't he work for on of those stupid rag TV shows that only really stupid, female, young adults watch? Hibimi couldn't have done anything to stop Kira. This death was pointless.

"But one demonstration alone does not serve as absolute proof. I will present you with another. My next target is a commentator who has also condemned me repeatedly. He is scheduled to appear live at this time…" Another picture of a dead commentator appears, and reverts back to the "Kira" screen. "Please listen to me carefully. I do not want to kill innocent people." _That's exactly what you're doing, you disgusting pig!_

The second commentator, victim, is much like the fourth. he works for some stupid tabloid show with the same target audience: young females. Is Kira… a girl?

"I hate evil and love justice. I do not consider the police my enemies, but my allies in my fight against evil. If you do not try to capture me, no innocent people will die. Even if you do not agree with me, if you refrain from publicizing your views in the media or in public, you will be spared." Some world it will be when no one can speak against Kira's justice. What if Kira decides to kill people who do things that simply bother her? What if she goes from punishing sins to just killing people off at random? Of course, no one would dare speak against her. "And then, simply wait. The world will be changed for the better. I'm sure you will agree." The world already has changed. It's not for the better, though. Crime rates have gone down because of fear, not because the world is changing into a better place. Who does Kira think they are?

Kira rambles on and on about how they can change the world. Again, that strikes me as odd. Kira never struck me as someone likely to waste time, but that's what she's doing.

The image cuts to the same building that was on the news yesterday. A police car is stopped in front of it, and a cop is preparing to shoot through the glass to get in. I frown, and my heart sinks in my chest. No way will this end well. Sure enough, the man's gun falls to the ground, and so does he.

Wait. _How did Kira get his name?_

I watch the two policemen I saw in yesterday's show pull up in their police car. I know what's going to happen, of course, but that doesn't stop the realization from shocking me. _There's no way Kira has their names. No way,_

_Is this even Kira? I never got the impression that Kira was female earlier, and now it's blatantly obvious that the person taking action here is female. Furthermore, the victims are too different._

_This isn't Kira._

_It's just… a copycat. Or another person who shares the power?_

The video draws to a close and I open the app. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like _I'm _going to have a heart attack. It seems as if the app takes an eternity to open, and I collapse into a chair while I wait. I have a feeling that only L can or will confirm my suspicions. I've almost stopped breathing when I hear a click and realize that L can hear me.

I hear the beginnings of a word, but I cut him off. I don't want to hear anything but an answer. "There's… there's another Kira? Is that it?" In spite of my excitement, my voice sounds weak. I get quieter with every word, or that's how it seems to me. Maybe that's just because reality is fading away from me, though.

There is silence on the other line. I want to cry out for him to answer me already. What's happened to me lately? I've become so… emotional, about everything! I'm still a good actor, and I'm still not particularly attached to people… but…

"How did you come to that conclusion, Miss Hill?" That's hardly an answer to what I asked, and it fills me with anger on top of the revulsion and the excitement and the anxiety.

"Firstly, this Kira seems to be female… based off of her victims, the reporters. And, of course, the victims themselves are different… And what about the policemen who died? Kira couldn't have had their names…" I'm rushing into some kind of a frenzy that I can't name. So much new information has come from this singular video. it's too much for me to take.

More silence. "I agree, Miss Hill," says L. His surprise is audible through everything, but I don't even have time to be angry about his low expectations of me. _Beep… _he hangs up. I drop my phone on the couch and run to the bathroom, where I make it only to the sink. Everything I've eaten forces itself from my stomach, and the acidity of it burns my throat. I feel raw, but I can't stop getting sick. The rotten taste of old food runs over my tongue, and the chunky texture of it makes me even more sick. A sour stench rises from my sink, and I stank the, gasping for the air that seems almost new to me.

I think I can hear L's synthetic voice in the distance, but as I wipe off my face and look at myself in the mirror, it seems to fade away. My face is unusually pale and my hair is strangely lanky. My eyes appear almost bloodshot, and I can see my chest moving rapidly as I breathe.

I wash the vomit out of my sink and brush my teeth. It's not until a full five minutes later that I go back into my living room to pay any attention to what L's synthetic voice is saying.

"Miss Hill. Miss Hill, are you there?" He sounds annoyed at me, as if he has the right to be. For all I know, I could be fooling myself. Synth does that to a voice sometimes.

"Y-yes, I'm here," I stutter, my voice closer to calm and my breathing approaching normal.

"That's good. Please remain where you are, Miss Hill." He is giving me an order, I know. To leave my home after that would be rather unwise. I don't know why he's telling me not to leave, though. Some people would consider concern as a possibility, but I don't. Concern is out of the question, seeing as L's personality doesn't seem to allow for that, especially for someone he barely knows.

And that is how I wind up on my bed, the covers pulled over my head and the lights. It's as I was thinking earlier; for some people, a shower is the way to gather their thoughts. For me, a comfortable place, swathed in darkness.

_There are two of them. Two Kiras… _

I would fall asleep here, but I can't. I'm not even close to tired. This discovery is both exciting and terrifying at the same time.

I hear my apartment door open and jumped out of bed. I didn't forget to lock it, so apparently _someone _either picked it or knew the location of my spare key. Maybe they bribed the landlord. Either way, I don't want anyone to find me knotted up in my covers, so I rush to turn on the lights and open my bedroom door. Of all people to be breaking into my house, it's that butler. He said his name was Watari, if I remember correctly. The fact of _his _appearance makes me especially glad that I wasn't found in bed.

"What's going on?" I mutter, my unblinking face entirely expressionless. I don't have anything particularly intelligent to say. In fact, I want nothing more than to be completely silent. I'm getting a feeling, though, that I won't be having my silence anytime soon. It won't be allowed.

"I've come to pick you up," he answers, providing me with no real answers. At the same time, this is certainly why I was told to stay put. For some reason, from the time I called L a half hour ago, L decided he would have Watari "pick me up".

"Oh… kay…" I decide, too lame to resist. I follow Watari back outside to the same old limousine and get in the back. L, of course, is not there.

I don't ask any questions. Instead, I lean into the tinted window and close my eyes. I was already stressed from comprehending the existence of a second Kira, but I suddenly recognize that L's strange response to my realization has hindered my ability to think. I don't even have an idea as to what is happening to me. Everything… has… gone… blank.

My one intelligible thought is that the car is taking a different path than last time, which means that L is either trying to throw off any potential stalkers by taking a different route to his hotel each time there and back, or he's switching hotels entirely. I have to say that the latter is more likely. Even if L chose a new route every trip, he'd eventually run out of options. Additionally, it's not as if his limo is hard to pick out in a crowd.

Sure enough, the limo stops at an entirely different hotel from the one in which I had "lunch" with L. Watari leads me in, and once again, I experience the strange sensation of being completely at odds with my environment. I rush through the lobby, and much to my relief, Watari doesn't seem to mind. He does have to stop me eventually, though. I've turned toward the elevator and he stops me.

"Please, follow me, Miss Leila," he says in a way that sounds gentle but also as if he's belating me. I want to be irritated, but I probably deserve it. After all, I've been out of sorts since I watched that video. I have to wake up before I see L again, or I'll look like a fool.

"I-I'm sorry," I sputter, shaking my head and walking slowly behind him from the point forward. Watari simply smiles at me in that grandfatherly way, the way that adults smile at their children when they do something harmless, but stupid. I follow him to a separate elevator, which is apparently "Dysfunctional at this time :c", but opens up when Watari inserts a key card into the controller to the left of it. I hesitantly step inside and watch Watari insert a similar key card into the controller inside of the elevator. He doesn't push any buttons before the elevator begins to slide smoothly towards the upper floors of the hotel.

The elevator opens directly into a rather lovely suite. L seems to have a style.

That, though, is not what catches my attention first.

It's the men.

I recognize one as Light's father, Soichiro Yagami, only because I've seen pictures of him. The others - each and every one - are strangers to me. One is bulky, muscular, and serious looking. Another has an afro, which is so _huge _it's honestly the only thing that stands out about him. A cute, younger guy with black hair and a boyish face is the first to look up at me, and L is nowhere to be f -

"Miss Hill." _Shit!_

I nearly jump out of my shoes as a hand - so cold I can feel it through my shirt - presses itself onto my shoulder. I spin around on one foot and prepare to beat the ever-loving life out of the owner of the hand. Fortunately, I realize that the person I'm about to hit is also the owner of the voice that greeted me in time to stop my fist from crushing the cartilage that build up his nose. Unfortunately, I end up hitting him in the throat instead.

It is with a sense of horror that I watch L gag. His eyes widen with shock, but he stands his ground and rubs his throat before standing up to his full height. I'm pretty freaked out at first because… dammit, he's tall. I get the sudden feeling that L would not hesitate to punch me back, but I'm seemingly lucky. He retracts into his hunched form and rubs his neck again. "_Please _refrain from doing that again in the future, Miss Hill," he groans, his voice deeper than usual and the monotone effect ruined my the scratchy sound of his sore throat.

"Er… yes, of course." I stop myself from saying something smartass: _Please refrain from scaring the shit out of me, Mr. "Ryuzaki". _"I apologize."

I'm not expecting L to forgive me, and he doesn't. He just nods his head once and then walks around me, hands in pockets. "This is Leila Hill," L offers to all the men, Mr. Yagami included. Mr. Yagami raises his eyebrows in surprise, and that's all I need to decide that he's rather shocked.

The cheerful-looking young man recovers from his shock rather quickly and dons a rather adorable smile. "Nice to meet you, Leila! I'm Tou - um, Taro Matsui!" He waltzes over and shakes my hand. His ceaseless smiling winds up being contagious, and I feel a half-grin appear on my own face.

"Aihara," says afro-man, failing to ditch the serious face and giving me a nod of his head. I realize how insane I must look for punching L just by looking at Aihara's forehead. A thread of sweat trails down his temple and to his cheek.

"And I'm Asahi…" murmurs Light's father, and I conclude that they are giving me aliases.

"Mochi," says the buff one.

"There's no need for aliases," L corrects them quickly. I suppose that means I am definitely not a suspect. There's no way I could know their real names already, so telling them to me would be a risk if I was a suspect. This fills me with relief even as the men give me their real names - Matsuda, Aizawa, Yagami, and Mogi in that respective order.

"It's an honor to meet you all," I say, bowing. That's taken some getting used to - it's what I've come to recognize as a respectful thing, though, in spite of how different it is from American styles of greeting others.

"Now, pleasantries aside," L begins, locking his soul-reading eyes onto mine. "Miss Hill, you will stay here under my custody for the remainder of the Kira case." I hear gasps of shock from the men, and at first, I am tempted to react in the same way. "I would also like to request that you assist us with the case."

I make a mental note that when L says "request" it actually means "demand".

"I have college," I remind him, as if it's important.

"You will still retain most of your freedom," insists L, and I realize he's gradually leaning closer to my face. "I will have someone transport you to To-Oh whenever you need it. You will also, of course, be allowed to continue seeing Light." I see. So Soichiro still believes that I am Light's girlfriend, and not a fly on the wall, there for the sole purpose of reporting his activity to L.

I chew my lip as I consider. It's probably pointless because L will do what he wants no matter what, but I decide to try negotiating some anyways. "I will agree to stay here on one condition. You can't have surveillance in my bedroom or bathroom."

Much to my surprise, L looks quite happy with my compliance and is quick to reply before I can insist upon anything else. "Surveillance in those areas was never a part of the plan. You are not a Kira suspect and I never thought it necessary." I'm unsure of whether he's lying or not, but I decide to take his word for it. It is, quite possibly, a bad decision.

I remember that the men are still here, but since I have no idea what to do I just wait for L to say something. "Light will join us on occasion," he says finally. "When that is the case, you shouldn't leave your room." _Translation: When Light's here, you'll be imprisoned in your room. _At least the reasoning behind it is good, though.

I nod in quiet agreement before declaring that I've left everything at home.

"That's no matter," L assures me. "Your clothing will be transported here, along with anything else within reason. You will receive compensation for items that can't be brought to the hotel for you."

"Right," I agree again. I suddenly notice that Matsuda keeps sneaking glances at me, like I'll be angry if I catch him, and roll my eyes.

"We may as well begin now," L tells me, breaking the eye contact between us for the first time in several minutes. "There were some videos that you have not yet seen relating to the message from Kira. You will watch those, and I'll discuss any deductions you should make later." He glances at the men, and they head to a group of couches near the center of the room.

I, on the other hand, am so blatantly worn down that Watari takes me to what he says is my room. And with that, I collapse into what must be the most wonderful mattress I have ever laid eyes on, and delve into a deep slumber.

It would be relaxing, but unfortunately, with a deep slumber comes dreams. Or, in my case, nightmares.

* * *

**Hello, all! Thanks for the faves and follows. You all are awesome, you know that, right?**

**By the way, Wavywavy, thanks for the review! It's super helpful to get some criticism once in a while, and it's nice to hear I've improved.**

**So you all know, this may slowly veer off the path of the anime/magna, although some scenes may be used in spite of that.**

**Chapters will take longer for me to write when I reach that point, thanks for understanding!**

**By the way, there's a part of this chapter that I don't like. At all. I may rewrite it eventually.**


	10. Breathing Blood

**Please note that I did, **_**purposely**_**, mix a couple of conversations in this chapter. I do use the magna as a reference for all conversation, but this being a fanfiction, it is edited at times, including this chapter.**

* * *

"_Mom, I don't want any breakfast," snaps the girl. Her long, reddish-blonde hair is braided, but hair is poking out of the braid and into every direction. Her bangs cover her eyes, but no one needs to see her eyes to know how peeved she is. "Breakfast food is so gross! Why would I want any of it?" She walks away from the table and leaves a bowlful of Cheerios to sit there._

_A woman - the mother - looks over at her retreating 11-year-old and screams after her. "You're a fucking anorexic! Don't come crying to me when you've got medical bills to pay!"_

_The child sticks out her tongue, relishing the childish gesture, and jogs up the stairs. If she doesn't, her mother will be angry. Besides, she doesn't want to be downstairs when her mother calls her father about the incident. No matter what, her father is never on her side. She has to count on herself to avoid her father and to endure the rampages of her mother._

_The girl doesn't feel like attending school today, but she also doesn't feel like being at home with her drunk mom. For years, her mom has been increasing her amount of alcohol intake. With the drunkenness comes the happy hours, the demon hours, and the knockout hours. As the alcohol intake increased, the happy hours decreased and the demon hours began to take up all hours of the day. Christmas, birthdays, school days, weekends. Only one thing awaited the girl when she was at home: hell._

_And so it happened that the girl run through each and every hallway of her home, never relaxing, as she dragged her stuffed bookbag behind her and exited the house that she was supposed to call "home". As if that would ever happen. She boards the school bus, and doesn't look behind her._

_The bus smells strongly of weed, but still better than home. She sits in the middle, because the junkies sit in the back and everyone else sits in the front. She will remain unseen this way. The girl pushes her frail hand into her bag and rifles around in it. A change of clothes and money she stole from her dad's room is buried at the bottom. It is all she will need._

_When she gets to school, she goes to class as normal but does one thing rather unusual. Once every three classes and after last period, she find a clear hallway and examines all the exit doors._

_When eighth period is over, she runs to the lost and found and steals a coat._

_As a first-time runaway, the police find her after four days, six hours, and twenty-eight minutes after being made aware that she didn't show up to school the next morning. She wouldn't mind getting caught because she was planning on casually sneaking back into her house at some point anyways. her mom is always so effed up she probably wouldn't have noticed. But when the cops dropped her off at home, it got her mom's attention, Fast._

_The girl's mother plays perfect until the police leave. When they do, the girl begins to flee the room. She's reaching to open the door and stepping out when a bottle shatters on the wall next to her right hand. She tries to leap back and shields her eye with her right hand, but a jagged piece of glass cuts clean through the cartilage on the top of her right ear. She screams; usually she would never express her fear in this way, but she knows that her mom was not aiming for the wall._

* * *

_Shit. _I gasp as I wake up, throwing my body forward until I'm not just sitting up, but my nose is less than an inch from my knees. I feel and uncomfortable sensation in my thighs and let myself snap back. My head falls back into the feathery pillow, and I breath in the scent of laundry detergent. My fingers find themselves touching my ear, in a place where it's sliced and I can move the flexible bits of cartilage in opposite directions. I could have had it fixed, but I never got to it. There's no doubt in my mind that I never will.

No matter what awful memory comes to haunt me at night, I don't have an excuse the sit lazily in bed for the whole day. I sit up and stretch out, and since I'm actually trying for it this time, the feeling is pleasant.

My feet touch the floor and I'm finally facing away from the bed, so I can see that some of my possessions have been brought it. My laptop isn't here, presumably because it isn't secure enough, but there's a new one to go along with the phone. They sit on a dresser, and beside the dresser are several boxes full of books. Whoever had to carry them in must have struggled with it. The thought makes me laugh out loud, but I still can't wipe the dream from my mind.

I expect they've bought me new toiletries because mine are nowhere to be found, but my clothes are tucked safely in the drawers. An analog clock on the wall alerts me to the fact that I've been asleep far longer that I intended. It's been an entire night since I arrived here, and since it's almost eleven o'clock, I expect there will be plenty to do.

Needless to say, I'm correct. The insomniac otherwise known as L is still at work, and I know because there are still voices . These voices do, of course, include those of the policemen and L himself. Really, it's a wonder that I could sleep with them still speaking. I usually require not only absolute darkness but total silence in order to rest.

At first, they're having quite the serious discussion. The men are all so frustrated they fail to notice me flopping into a chair near the wall.

"… talked it over among themselves, and they're demanding that L… not a stand-in, but the real L… appear on TV," Mr. Yagami finishes. His voice holds layers upon layers of stress and concern. I decide that Soichiro must be a truly good man, because I can tell he's concerned for L's life in spite of the suspicion L has placed on his son. "After doing almost nothing to help with the investigation, the don't even try to come up with an alternative. Kira says jump, and the ask how high…" I smile. The idea of the police blindly following Kira's lead, marionettes attached to their bloodthirsty puppeteer, is rather funny in spite of being a horrible situation in reality.

It seems that they are talking about something Kira said in one of the videos I've not been able to watch yet. As it is, I'm just as put off but Interpol's reaction as anyone is. I'm not sure what Kira has threatened, but whatever it is has resulted in Interpol's insisting upon L's appearance on TV… in person. It seems very wrong for that to be requested of him. My opinion isn't politically correct, but it seems to me that the man with thousands of good deeds and solved cases to his name should be higher on the priority list than most other things… or people.

"Their decision is both right and reasonable," L says, sounding surprisingly calm. I feel an involuntary surge of respect for him. If it was my life on the line, I'd never help Interpol again. "It's simply unacceptable for the police to work with Kira. And if it's between me and the NPA director general, of course it should be me." Oh? Because I've heard some awful stuff about the NPA director general. "I'm the one who challenged Kira and said I'd capture him. It's the right decision."

The voice of Matsuda, sounding more solemn than it probably ever will be again, replies, "But… that means you'll… be…"

"What worries me most," interrupts L, and I can tell that he's been chewing on something, "is that when I appear on TV, and I intend to… if Kira knows nothing about me, then even if it's really me out there…" Oh, I see. How will Kira know that you're actually L? "How will I get him to believe I'm L?" The last part of his sentence is muffled, and I can hear him chewing. Typical.

The conversation goes on from there, and includes Aizawa getting irritated at Matsuda, more of L explaining what should be fairly obvious, and the sound of a lot more cake being chewed up. I zone back in when I hear L say, "It would be bad enough to be killed by Kira, but dying at the hands of an opportunistic pretending to be Kira would really grate." My eyes open to the sounds of gasps from each and every task force member.

"What?" a few of them shout simultaneously. It seems that L did not tell them about the Second Kira. The reasoning for that is unbeknownst to me, but what matters is that they know now. Once again, the Angry Aizawa/Obvious Explanations/Cake cycle starts up.

Their conversation slowly draws to a close, and, out of the blue, the topic changes rather drastically.

"It's so cool that someone else is here to help now!" exclaims the voice I recognize as Matsuda's. "But why does she have to stay with you, Ryuzaki?"

I hear a long sigh from none other than L himself. He sounds quite exasperated at first and I amused myself by trying to guess how much work was put into maintaining his monotone, which his voice quickly fades into. "I was concerned about the possibility of being found due to my hacking her laptop. On top of that, the security at her apartment is too lax." He pauses, considering, and adds, "The car would have eventually attracted the attention of her neighbors had Watari continued to pick her up. It is safer and more convenient for both of us this way."

"That makes sense," says Matsuda, calmer this time. I imagine one of the other men told him to cool his jets. "It's too bad that she's going out with Light right now."

I choke at the disappointment in his voice, causing the officers' attention to switch directly to me. L, on the other hand, plays at being very interested in a fruit he's picked off of his fourth slice of cake. "Uh… heheh, when did you get here, Leila?" asks Matsuda, his voice faltering. I swear I see a drop of sweat run down his forehead.

"I've been in here for the past hour," I answer, trying not to sound too harsh. Even if I do carry a bit of a tone, it's because they should have noticed me earlier. I run my hand through my hair for a minute to make myself appear almost nervous.

"Then you should be up-to-date on our current… situation, Miss Hill," L says, finally cutting into the silence.

"Yes." I feel like there is something important that I'm missing, but I brush it off. I'd never remember it in this situation.

"Light will be here shortly, so if you'd please head back to your room…" L stuffs a huge bite of cake in his mouth and I nod. That whole exchange was flat-out weird and we weren't doing anything productive anyways.

I walk back to my room… again… but listen into the conversation that resumes the minute I'm out of sight. "I understand that catching Kira is important, but it seems very wrong to have this young lady seduce Light in order to do so," I hear Mr. Yagami say. My blood boils with hot rage - he should have taken that up with me.

L doesn't exactly come to my defense, but he does reply as soon as the words exit Mr. Yagami's mouth. "It is important to the investigation that we have someone close to any suspects, including Light, that don't outwardly appear to have a connection to the task force."

I smile, and allow myself to close my bedroom door rather noisily.

Unbeknownst to any of the task force, L arranged for Watari to connect my laptop to a camera in the hotel room. The audio/video feed does not save at all, so I'll have to pay careful attention to the scene as I watch.

I open the laptop and flop onto my bed, and uneasy smile lighting up my face.

* * *

My eyes are glued to the screen at least one hour before Light actually appears. He walks in behind Matsuda, his face slightly paled. He looks quite nervous, and I decide I'm not entirely certain of whether the emotion is real or not.

"_Thank you, Light,"_ L voice runs through the headphones he's given me, so quiet it like a whisper. He's appeared by Light's side in an unimaginably short period of time. He moves remarkably fast for someone with the posture of an eighty-year-old who's been hit by a car.

Light graces the task force with a friendly smile and shakes his head. "_Not at all, Ryuga. I want to catch Kira as much as you do."_ I bite my tongue. Again with the perfect prodigy act… will it never end?

"_Please, call me Ryuzaki here."_ L appears to blatantly ignore Light's comment, but Light hardly has time to react. The task force members take this as a chance to tell Light their aliases.

"_And I'm Asahi…"_ Light's father finishes.

"_I see…"_ Light responds, quietly as first. His voice reverts back to a normal volume, toneless, as he finishes. "_Then should I be 'Light Asahi'?"_

"_That would be fine,"_ L decides quickly, as if it's not even important that Light has an alias. And I'm sure that it isn't to L. After all, if Light is Kira, then an alias is no help to him anyways.

"_So the investigation team is only four members?"_ Light asks, sounding rather surprised.

"_No, we have other trusted members on the outside."_ L's voice is just as calm as always, but the look in his eyes is absolutely intense. "_And among them is one who can only be contacted directly by me."_ What? I don't remember him mentioning that. Or any other members at all, for that matter. I decide that he's probably bluffing, but that comment only draws me further into the conversation.

From that point on, though, L gets Lights started with those videos. I carefully watch Light's facial expressions, his eyes, his body language. He looks sickened, and it's hard to tell through the pixelated image on my laptop, but I almost see the same anger I noticed the night the first message was broadcast. Not that I can draw any real conclusions from this - he could be angry just at the thought of yet another Kira. It doesn't really have to be any more personal than that, although the evidence seems to support otherwise.

Throughout the entire video, Light's gears are turning. He is so deeply in thought that I can't read him, and his facial expression doesn't change from the one he had from the moment he sat down. His eyes are narrowed, the corner of his lips turned down slightly. When I meet his brown eyes, even if it is just a video, I can almost feel him radiating emotion. The video ends, and Light's eyes flicker in L's direction. L is staring at him, a finger in his mouth, and his head tilted slightly. As much as I despise myself for thinking it, it's so childish it's adorable. Light, however, doesn't think so. His face flickers to one of irritation and back, when he turns to Ryuzaki and reports his findings in a single sentence.

"There may be more than one person with Kira's powers."

Of course. light would have to notice that. He's very intelligent, enough so that it would be odd for him not to notice.

"K-Kira's powers?!" Mr. Yagami explains, his shocked voice laced with relief. I groan inwardly. He's just given away to Light that his conclusion is absolutely true, and now Light will go from there without a doubt in his mind. If Mr. Yagami had been able to hide that relief from his voice and Light was Kira, he may have said that he was mistaken. He may have tried to withdraw his conclusion in order to watch L die without even having to lift a finger. If he'd done that, it would have been a dead giveaway that Light was hiding something, but now that Light knows he said what was expected of him, there's no chance of that. _Mr. Yagami… you fool._ "What do you mean, Light?"

"At the very least, there's a high chance that this isn't the same Kira," Light answers, his face turned away from the camera. I can't see his face, but it doesn't take long to picture his expression. "Up till now, Kira wouldn't use suspects like this to show he can predict their deaths."

"It's the same," says Aizawa, eyes wide with incredulity.

"Exactly the same as L… I mean, Ryuzaki's reasoning," Matsuda says, his voice shaky enough to match Aizawa. It's easy to see why they are so impressed. After all, the fact that Light's conclusion matched L's perfectly says a lot about his level of intelligence. The men must know that he far outmatches them even though he is younger, and I'm sure they find it awe-inspiring. Or something like that.

"And if Kira needs a name and a face to kill someone…" Light's voice raises slightly. "Then how does it explain how the cops who showed up at the TV station were killed?"

L moves to stand directly beside Light, and they both turn slightly toward each other. I can see their faces now, and L's eyes are just slightly wider than usual. Whether he's surprised, or impressed, or both, it's surprising. I never expected to see any kind of emotion on his face when he confronted Light in this setting. Light, on the other hand, crosses his arms. His mouth is closed, neither smiling nor frowning, and his eyes, as usual, are slightly narrowed. "Exactly, Light. We are also assuming this is a second Kira."

I watch Light's muscles clench, his lips pressed hard together. Rather unfortunately, it reminds me of kissing him and I find myself momentarily distracted. He blinks once and loosens up, then sighs, "So you knew, Ryuga… I mean Ryuzaki? You were testing me?" Please. Light knew that he was being tested from the minute Mr. Yagami opened his mouth. He's milking it for all it's worth, now.

"It wasn't a test," L explains, not sounding at all bothered. His expression is still the same. I wonder if Light gets the same feeling as I do when he makes eye contact with L; if he gets the feeling that his soul is being X-rayed. "If I was the only one who came up with the Second Kira theory…" So I don't count? That's nice. I suppose it's true that I expressed my opinion to him, and not the others, though. That's probably why. "…then it wouldn't be persuasive. With you also thinking the same thing, the theory is greatly strengthened." It suddenly hits me that Light isn't supposed to know anyone else is here, and frankly, the only other people Light can see besides L are obviously not intelligent enough to deduce the possibility of a second Kira on their own. That, I decide, would be why L didn't hint at someone else coming to the same conclusion. I am not being underrated… or forgotten. The thought fills me with a rather considerable amount of relief.

"You really are a great help, Light," L continues. "Then it's decided…" The seemingly impressed expression on L's face disappears. Now, his eyes are full of concentration and daring. "First, we must stop the Second Kira. He's clearly on Kira's side, and not very bright. He may respond to a message from the real Kira. If a second Kira doesn't really exist then it's meaningless, but it's still worth a try. We need to be thinking about how to deal with the real Kira, but we must focus on this first."

I nod my head in agreement even though no one can hear me. If the Second Kira is a stupid as she seems, she won't take half the effort to catch as the original Kira. If we can catch her, there's a chance of finding the murder weapon, which, obviously, would tell us a lot about Kira. Furthermore, I'm sure the Second Kira is full of information that could be procured with a little… encouragement.

Light nods his head, looking determined. "Impressive, Ryuzaki. I was just thinking that was the best option…" I make a note that, around people he views as equally intelligent, he flaunts his own cleverness. he does, of course, hide it behind a veil of friendly words or a neutral tone, but the arrogance is there, displayed to anyone smart enough to look for it.

"And for this, Light…" L dips his head and his hair covers his face, but I can still tell from looking at him that his next action will be to target Light. His next few words will put Light on edge, in the line of fire, because L wants a reaction. I swallow the lump in my throat and allow myself to wonder what in God's name he's going to do. "…I want you to play the part of the real Kira!" I see. That will certainly send Light into an inner turmoil even if he's innocent. If he plays the role just a little too well, the suspicions against him could be heightened.

I suddenly realize that this is probably why Light is here: for this purpose alone. L was looking forward to this moment, I simply know it.

Light's face twists into one of surprise. It's completely genuine, too, and I let myself laugh at him. It's not as if he can hear me from where he is, anyways. "M-me?"

"Yes, it should be easy with your abilities." Of course it should. Light knows as well as L and I do that he's an excellent liar. His skills would most certainly come in handy for this, although I don't doubt that L or even I could do it just as well. "We don't have much time. Will you write up a message from the real Kira that we can use during tonight's news?"

L doesn't wait for Light's answer. After all, it's not as if Light can say no. Instead, L hands out some orders and Light begins work.

"Is that good enough, Ryuzaki?" Light questions about twenty minutes later. "I tried to get into Kira's shoes."

L holds the paper Light has just handed him, pinching it with two fingers from each hand and holding it in front of his face. At the To-Oh entrance ceremony, I thought it looked pretty freaky, but it's grown on me. Instead, I now think this odd little quirk is sort of… _no. _I stop my thought there, willing myself never to finish any thought about L with an affectionate term.

"It's very well done, but… if we don't take out this "you can kill L" part…" L lowers the paper and I can see his face as he peers down at Light. His eyes are wide and shaped in a way that tells me if he had visible eyebrows, they'd be slightly raised. His mouth is curved slightly downward and the shape of his lips make him appear pouty. Screw it… it's adorable. "I'll die," he finishes.

"Haha!"

"Hey, Chuckles," I mutter. "Enough with the laughter. Seriously." That particular bout of laughter is so ill-timed, so false, that it makes me want to vomit. I swallow the taste of bile and shake my head. My eyes go back to boring a hole in the screen of my laptop. Light has just finished speaking, much to my relief, although I do hear him mention that it was "just a joke". That only makes it worse, I decide. What kind of a joke is that?

"Yes." L sounds about as amused as I am.

I flick my television on and lower the volume just to be safe. I slide off my bed and stand close to it so I can hear the news station I'm watching. "...news. Reacting to the video broadcast on Sakura TV the other day, another Kira has appeared stating he is the real one!" The newscaster's voice is laced with excitement and I almost laugh. I'm sure the only thing he's concerned out is the number of viewers he's getting because of this. I focus on the newscast again in time to hear him say, "Let's first watch the message itself."

His face disappears under the cover of a pink screen. In the center are cursive, loopy letters that read "KIRA". The entire screens glitter, and I snort childishly. Whoever Kira is, I'm sure this image alone will piss him off. It's so… well, it's gay.

"I am Kira. I am the _true _Kira, and the creator of the video shown on Sakura TV is not Kira." I wonder if the Second Kira is sane enough to hear disgust through the synth that lines "Kira"'s words. I can certainly hear it. "This time, I will show leniency to the person who claimed to be me by assuming he did it out of an attempt to help me achieve my goals. However, killing and threatening the lives of innocent police officers goes against my will." Wow, Light actually did pretty well. I can imagine someone with Kira's character saying exactly that… "It only causes chaos and interferes with my desire for people to understand my purpose. If the person who claimed to be me empathizes with my goals and wishes to assist me, then I ask that he first try to understand my will." His will? Maybe Light did _too _well… this broadcast that _he _wrote has the voice of someone who makes himself out as some kind of god. How can you possibly fake that?

"If he does not heed my warnings and continues to act in this manner, then I will be forced to pass judgement on him." I swallow. There had been a seed of doubt relating to light's innocence from the moment I had met him, but the seed was growing. It had been all along.

The broadcast draws to a close and I switch off my TV. I want to see how the others are reacting to this.

"I bet the Second Kira is really nervous now!" exclaims Matsuda joyfully.

"I am confident that this broadcast will encourage him to take action," agrees L, and Matsuda looks shocked. Evidently L rarely agrees with anything that man says. That isn't surprising considering how naive and immature Matsuda is, though. "You've done an excellent job, Light."

The conversation continues for a minute, and L dismisses the men.

I don't talk to him that night, and he doesn't make an effort to speak with me. There's too much to consider.

I strip off my clothes and toss them into a basket by the door. Then I put on my pajamas and switch off the lights. My eyes begin closing even as I trudge over to my bed, my feet sliding next to each other even as I reach out to feel what's in front of me. Eventually, my shins bang into the box frame underneath my bed and I allow myself to collapse into it. I gently place my laptop on the ground and pull myself underneath the comforter. it's become apparent that I'm too lazy and tired to pull the top sheet from underneath the pillow and the edges of the mattress.

My body curls up. The comforter is warm from where I was previously laying on top of it, and the low hum of the air conditioner provides a quiet, steady sound. The room is pitch black and I'm absolutely alone.

That's all I've ever needed to sleep.

* * *

_She screams as the needle pierces her arm. She's always been terrified of the hospital, and that fact that she always has to be sedated. Her blood seems to sink in her veins and her body feels heavy. She stops resisting the doctor and he begins to stitch the lacerations on her skull and the side of her neck._

_The girls resists the urge to laugh. Two years later and a bottle a day, one had finally missed the wall next to her head… and hit her. She remembers the sudden sting of alcohol seeping into her bloody head. She remembers standing there, staring at the door. She remembers arriving at the hospital._

_A woman appears at the door after the girl has been cleaned up. Her body still smells of blood, but there's none to be seen under her bandages. The woman introduces herself as a social worker, and from there, the obvious conversation takes place._

_The girl will not live with her family any more. Not that she ever thought of them as family._

_The faces of so many foster families flash by, and then the face of two people in particular linger. They smile at the thirteen-year-old. "I'll be acting as Mom, but you can call me Jen," says the brunette woman._

_Her fat, balding husband smiles down at the child. "Bruce," he says simply, and the girl nods. This is her fourth foster home so far. She won't be here longer than a week, she's sure._

_But the home is nice. The school is nice._

_Everything is nice._

_It's too nice. Too nice for the girl. What is happening to her? Everything is perfect, and that never happens. She knows that she was not meant to have anything that is good, and the presence of the goodness bothers her. It's driving her insane. She doesn't want to be happy. She needs to see something, or do something, or meet someone truly evil to remind her that this is reality and not heaven._

_And soon enough, her reminder comes, It comes with blood sticking to the back of her throat and dripping off of her fingers. The crimson stuff pools at her feet, but instead of simply sitting there, the pool keeps growing. Soon, the blood is above her chest… her neck, her chin… her mouth. She can't breathe. Yes, this is reality, she tells herself. This is the reminder she needed. It's too bad that she's going to d -_

* * *

I wake up simply because the lights are one for some reason. It's so bright that I can see it through my eyelids, but I'm grateful for it anyways. I'm sure if I told anyone else about that particular dream, they wouldn't have understood why it would have caused to to wake up screaming bloody murder. After all, it doesn't seem that terrifying at the surface. Either way, being woken up because the light is on for some reason is better than being woken up by another person because I'm having some kind of panic attack.

That, of course, switches my focus to a different topic: why are the lights on? I'm unwilling to get up in order to shut the light off, so I just pull the now cool comforter over my head.

"… Leila?" murmurs a calm, quiet voice. My body stiffens and my eyes open underneath the covers. My tired mind is taking a while to connect the dots. "I know that you're awake."

L? I peek out at the wall from a gap between my covers and the mattress. The analog clock tells me that it's 3, and my body tells me that it isn't the afternoon. I allow myself to reflect on L's reasoning for being in my room at this godforsaken hour, and decide that there is no good reason for it.

I hear a sigh and feel the bedspread being jerked away from my body, and the feeling of the bed shifting slightly. The mattress creaks with his weight and I sit up quickly. I pull my knees to my chest. I'm not wearing a bra and I don't want him to notice… not that he's one to be staring at that particular part of my anatomy.

"What…" I yawn, forcing my eyelids open… only to find dark grey eyes only inches from mine once again. I'm too tired even to come close to frightened. "What do you want… at this time of night?" I don't even flinch at his seemingly endless staring.

"I was able to hear you tossing and turning from down the hall," he says, probably annoyed but still keeping up his monotone. "I came to check on you." _Translation: I came to tell you to cut it out, but then I noticed that you were asleep and decided that waking you up would suffice. _"When I got here, you were crying."

I was… crying? I know it must be because of the dream I had, but that's not something I wanted to discuss. Shedding tears in front of someone like that could back me into a corner…

"Uh… I guess I must have been having a nightmare," I answer, dangerously close to losing my cool. "Can I go back to bed now? I know you rarely sleep, but I do, and I won't feel feel tomorrow morning if I don't get any rest. I put one finger out and poke his chest just hard enough to force him back about a foot. His chest is hard with muscle that I can feel even through his white shirt. My eyelids drop again; I can't let myself think like that anymore, especially when it comes to people like L.

L's eyes do something I have rarely seen them do: they narrow. He gains his balance quickly and crouches on my bed. He doesn't look angry… but he certainly doesn't look happy with me, either. "I do not think that you are being entirely honest with me and I can't say I appreciate it."

I sigh, as L's gone into nosy mode again. I remember the results of his previous interest in me and frown; I shouldn't encourage him to look into me anymore than I already have… but I do. "You know, if you expect honesty from me all the time, you've got another thing coming," I spit, gritting my teeth. "And I could say exactly the same thing about you, too."

As is usual, he does not react to my words; at least, not on the surface. So finally, after several minutes of eye contact, he answers me. "That is true," he says simply, and basically crawls off of my bed. His hair has fallen into his face, and I find that it's disconcerting not to see the eyes that I tell myself I hate so much. He turns away from me as his feet touch the floor. L's body slumps as he walks, and he stick his hands ever-so-slightly into his jean pockets, and he withdraws one to flick the light switch.

He closes the door and I am bathed in darkness, but I know I won't be able to fall back into my "peaceful" slumber. I feel as if I'll be punished, although I know that's rather unlikely. At the same time, it's so out of character for him to get so worked up because I didn't give him more details regarding my nightmare.

I think back through my dream, and what details I can remember. I remember that much of the dream could have caused me great distress. And the more I think about it, the more unlikely it is that L came in here because I was "tossing and turning". I must have been talking, or even… screaming, as I slept. If that is the case, something he heard me say might have piqued his curiosity. He is a detective, so I suppose it's only natural for him to be curious.

_Curious and nosy are two different things_, I think, scowling.

* * *

**-Third Person POV-**

* * *

It is with a great level of frustration that L searches Leila's name on each and every database he has access to… all of them. He's come to expect it: nothing. It is quite normal, and should be expected, for dozens of pages of information to appear when a person's name is plugged into any _one _of the databases, but this is simply wrong. The only reason there would be such a complete lack of records relating her would be that she never had a birth certificate proving her American citizenship. Therefore, she would have been unable to see any doctors or go to a public school, resulting in her lack of records.

He had, of course, lied to her. He couldn't have Leila knowing how little he knew about her.

The only other realistic explanation he could scrape up was that Leila or someone else had destroyed any files that contained information about her. The great detective sticks his thumb in his mouth and glares at her school records from To-Oh. Nothing there is of use to him except her grades, which certainly won't help him understand the words that have been clawing on the inside of his head even as she uttered them. She'd said them over and over, sometimes loud and sometimes quiet, quick and drawn out, sudden and steady.

"_I can't breathe… so much blood…"_

He couldn't say that the girl was special to him in any way, but in his experience, someone talking about blood in their sleep was not good. When he adds in the fact that she had been muttering in her sleep the night he'd hacked her laptop, as well as the fact that she had been equally restless every other time he'd been within a reasonable range as she'd slept, he could only conclude that she had some kind of psychiatric problem. He now wonders what the cause of said problem is.

Either way, the last thing L wants is to let this distract him from his other cases. It is rather unimportant, but L does not like this new lack of knowledge. It would be so much easier if she would just tell him everything. Then, he would know, and he wouldn't bother her about it because she would no longer be a distraction. Even so, Leila had made her intentions clear: she would tell him nothing simply because she had decided he had no business knowing.

At first, L had been doubtful that there was anything to investigate, nothing even worth occupying his time in the middle of a boring night. But Leila's reaction had told him otherwise. When he had talked to her, she had seemed so tense, and that wouldn't be the case unless she had something to hide.

L knows he must satisfy his curiosity or things would become disastrous. Especially now that she is aware of his identity, and is a member of the task force, he feels the need to know as much about her as is possible.

He certainly intended to find out much more than Leila was willing to give.

L always did as he intended.

* * *

**I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, but after hours spent editing I'm not sure there's much I can do to fix it right now; if I ever come back to rewrite it, I'll say so in an author's note of something.**

**As an added note, I may go back and fix some stuff in earlier chapters. I've decided that when I want to write something from another character's POV, instead of doing first person I'll just use third. I dunno why but it's just easier that way.  
By the way, thanks for all the support since that last chapter! 6 follows and three faves is more than I ever expected to come by from that chapter in particular, but I'm very happy that you all liked it!**

**I'm also going to respond to my reviewers here, because I'm too happy not to! Thanks again!**

**XXL - Thanks, I really appreciate it! And this story is basically dependent on my every whim since I'm sort of making it up as I go along. I do have some of the finer points planned out, although I won't be revealing those xD  
****Effervescent Ocean - Thanks! I'm glad she doesn't come off as too... fake, I suppose. Leila's quite fun to "become" actually, which is often what I do when I write from her POV. I hope you enjoy this chapter c:**


	11. Obsession

To be honest, I didn't feel like being on the same semi-tolerable terms with L for some time after all that. Since I was living with him, I had to put up him anyways. I came out of my room the next day, and since Light wasn't there, I was actually allowed to roam the entire "suite" all day.

As it turns out, the great L does not just rent a suite. L has lone access to every room on this entire floor. As a matter of fact, no one but those whom he approves is even allowed to walk the halls of this floor. That, of course, explains why I've not seen any staff during the entirety of my stay here.

The closest I ever come to speaking with L without involving the investigation is when he offers me a piece of his bundt cake, and I quickly respond with a resounding "no". His gaze locks onto mine for uncomfortably long, and though he keeps a straight face, his eyes convey a message without any effort on his part. _I offered you cake and you're refusing it? That's certainly… unexpected._

The next day, though, Light shows up to help with the investigation. I'm obviously not happy about being confined to my room, and I have to remind myself that I can watch everything that's going on via my laptop. I'm simply unable to comment, interact, or observe the events taking place in person. But I am of no authority to get between L and his suspect, so I refrain from complaining even as L watches me shut my bedroom door.

The whole ordeal - er, day - is torturous. Nothing happens. Even with Light around, no progress is made during the several hours that he is present. I'm about to switch off my laptop and give in early. It's only 9 o'clock and I'm not tired at all, but sleep is preferable to the boredom that has haunted me for the past few hours.

"Ryuzaki! We received a reply from the Second Kira!"

Or not. I am certainly willing to stay up for this.

I flop back onto my stomach and bend my knees behind me, my legs crossed at the calves and my feet held together at the ankles. I press my lips together and stare at L's face, which appears small because of his distance from the camera. He's staring at something offscreen, but I know the HQ well enough to know that he's got his eyes locked on a monitor. "Judging by the envelope, the tape, the way it was sealed, the handwriting, and the visual quality, there's little doubt it's from the same person," continues the voice coming from the monitor. "The materials are on the way to you, but I will now send a copy of what's on the tape."

In the few minutes that pass, my excitement only grows. There are infinite ways that the Second Kira could respond to Light's orders, and we were all about to find out which one of them she had chosen.

Soon, I hear sound coming from the monitor: the same synthesized voice of the Kira who killed three innocent police officers among other victims. I focus all of my mind on the sound. i wish to commit her words to memory.

"Kira," the voice says, sounding pleased even through all the distortion. "Thank you for responding. I will do as you say." I grin, feeling certain that Kira is less that happy with that. The real Kira likely would have allowed her to kill L, but it seems that his copycat isn't smart enough to notice that. "I want to meet you, Kira. I don't think you have the eyes, but I won't kill you. Don't worry."

The eyes? "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snap, my eyes widening. Eyes… if the real Kira doesn't have the "eyes" and the Second Kira does, that's a difference between the two. I make a mental note to consider the other differences between them. Perhaps "eyes" is code for one of those?

I can see the back of L's laptop now, and he and the other task force members surrounding it. L's face can only be described as… well, fascinated. Engrossed. So completely immersed in the few words he'd heard so far that I was completely in awe of him for a moment. I pulled my eyes back away from his face in time to hear the "Second Kira" speak her next few words. "Please think of a way for us to meet without the police knowing."

Before I even have the chance to contemplate the Second Kira's idiocy, another few words reach my ears and echo as they bounce against the walls of my skull. "We can confirm each other when we meet by showing our shinigami." _Shinigami? _My mind wants to run even more races around that word than "eyes", but my thoughts are interrupted by a rather loud noise that not only projects throughout the entire floor, but also from the speakers on my laptop. The sound, as I very quickly realize, was the noise made when L was violently ejected, ass-first, onto the floor when his chair tipped over on its side. His face is one of pure terror, of confusion. I bite my lip; does he see something in the word "shinigami" that I don't?

I recognize something else in his expression, but I don't recognize it. I swallow and listen to his words. They sound just as unsettled as he looks. "Shinigami…? Are we supposed to accept the existence of such a thing…?"

"_Shinigami" _must _be some kind of code word, _I tell myself. Why else would that word be used? After all, there's no real evidence of shinigami existing now if they ever have before. Is it possible that the two Kiras are referring to themselves as gods of death? Perhaps that's it…

"Shinigami? No way…" mutters Matsuda, his face sweating rather profusely from what I can tell.

"You're right, Ryuzaki," Light agrees, his voice laced with something like worry. "Shinigami can't possibly exist." Or could they? It's the most outlandish possibility of all time, but it's not as if the Kira killings themselves have been exactly mundane. I'll have to read up on the mythology later.

L leans his head back slightly, and while his face is still not visible to Light, I notice that he's practically glaring at the poor kid. Perhaps it's because he thinks Light is trying to minimize the horror of the situation, and that would make L look like a coward? Then again, it is L and I doubt he cares much about that. "Kira also made a prisoner write something that seemed to suggest the existence of shinigami…" No wonder he's so shaken up. He knew before all of us that Kira, the original Kira, had used that word long before the Second Kira was around. It wasn't just a code word between them. It was something that they both had in common… something so clear, neither Kira had to explain what the term meant.

But what was that shared trait? Could it truly have something to do with shinigami?

They continue to delve into the topic of the message even as I think into it myself. Truth be told, after I watched L pick himself up from the floor, I stopped paying attention to them altogether.

* * *

A couple of days later, I get a call from Light for the first time in a while.

"Light?" I ask, filling my voice with false pleasure and disbelief. I knew he'd get back to me eventually. "It's been forever! Well, two weeks, anyways."

"Sorry, Leila," says his exhausted voice. "I'm sorry I haven't called you for a while. Life's been… busy, lately." I hold back a giggle. Don't I know it! "I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice," Light adds, and I snort.

"I'm sure that's all you wanted," I laugh, rolling onto my back and leaning my head into a pillow. "I know you're busy, but we ought to go out sometime."

"Yes," he agrees simply, sounding relieved that I'm not angry. Or something similar to that, anyways. "I'll let you know the next time I'm got some free time on my hands.

Our chat ends just as quickly as it started, leaving me to wonder why the hell he's in such a hurry. I allow my eyes to roll as I shake my head.

* * *

5.12.2004

For once, my sleep is without the usual nightmares. Nothing particularly exciting or alarming has happened for a while. I've attended school as usual, and have bumped into Light a few times, but that about all. No event in recent days has been worth triggering a nightmare, so I relish my rest as it lasts.

Right now, I simply lay in the dark, clothed in my usual nighttime garb. My eyes are closed, but I'm not truly sleeping; not that it matters to me as long as I'm getting rest of some kind.

Of course, the moment I think this, the Light turns on. I know exactly who's come to disturb me, and that especially irritates me that he has the nerve to come in here after last time. I feel the covers - sheets and all - being jerked off of my body and groan in displeasure. "Leila," whispers L, and although it's clear that he is, in fact, whispering, the volume makes it equally clear that he is disregarding my personal space.

I open my eyes to find that I've rolled very close to the edge of the bed, and L didn't even have to get onto the bed to invade my space. Instead, he crouches in front of me, and cocks his head so far to the left that I hear his vertebrae pop. His gaze is now exactly even with mine, and I make a point of frowning at him before I sit up.

"What is it with you and getting me up at godforsaken hours of the morning?" I snap, glancing at my trusty analog clock. 2:30 - it seems L has hit a new low in my book.

"A new message from the Second Kira has recently arrived at Sakura TV," L tells me, and I feel significantly less irritated at him. He always asks me what I think about the messages, but it's always after the task force has had a chance to lower the IQ of the hotel by pitching in. But if it had just arrived… that meant that besides L and Watari, I would be the first on the team to see it.

I wait in silence for him to continue since L always seems to have a long-winded explanation to spew at you. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, I finally decide that he has nothing else to say. "May I see it, then?" I ask impatiently, and reach up to my face to shove a clump of hair out of my eyes.

"Please follow me," he answers with a sharp nod of his head. L's pitch black hair seems to bounce with each step he takes, and I keep my eyes on it as we walk. All in all, it's quite amusing, especially when I come to the conclusion that my hair probably does exactly the same thing. His hair appears coarse, unless "textured" is a better word. I resist the sudden urge to touch it and find out.

L sits down in his usual chair and I expect him to pull up another video on his laptop. Instead, his spidery fingers reach deeply into his jeans pocket and he whips out a crumpled piece of paper. It's photocopied, but I can tell that the message was originally printed on a piece of wide-ruled notebook paper. L presses the piece of paper into my outstretched palm and I suddenly become quite fascinated with his hands. They're rather large, and he has long, perfect fingers. I suddenly wonder if he plays the piano. It's a bit stupid, but he has the perfect hands for it. His skin appears smooth, although I obviously can't feel it through the paper. I'm almost thrilled that such skin is so close to touching my own, but then I remember that said fingers have probably spent the night in his mouth.

I take the paper and quickly scan over it. Oddly enough, the message is actually typed. It seems that even the Second Kira isn't stupid enough to give us a sample of her handwriting. The caption at the top tells me that the entries are from May last year, but I quickly disregard that. Unless the Kiras are able to manipulate space and time, which is absolutely ridiculous and even further "out there" than shinigami, that's just a pathetic attempt at throwing us off.

"… club activities during… concert… Yokohama… copied it off my… notebooks in Aoyama… ran into him… confirmed our shinigami a - …?" I've been muttering parts of the journal entry under my breath. It's an old habit of mine that I just haven't been able to shake. At the word "shinigami" I hear an awkward shuffling, and, without lifting my head, look at L through my hair. I laugh; his colorless face is tinged with a faint shade of pink. I remember him falling on his butt at that very same word just over two weeks ago. I look up at him and notice that he looks so solemn, it's as if he's trying to chase the blush off his face.

"I take it you saw that, then," he says. I suppose now that L has had due time to think about that particular event, he's decided that it was quite embarrassing.

Obviously, I run with it. "Yes, I saw what happened," I say seriously. "I heard it, too. As a matter of fact, I'm sure plenty of people did."

"Ah…" he says, his head turning away slightly. "Well… what do you think, Leila?" _Oh, pretty eager to change the subject, aren't we?_

'_30th We confirmed our shinigami at the Giants game at the Tokyo Dome."_

"Well… At first glance, it appears that sh - the Second Kira is impossibly stupid, since they practically give themselves away in the last entry," I say slowly. "But to assume they're truly this idiotic doesn't seem wise. They must have known that if this message was actually aired, the game would be canceled. I think it's important to pay attention to all the other entries that mention specific locations as well; Aoyama on the 22nd, for instance, and Shibuya on the 24th."

"Yes…" L agrees. The blush in his face has completely disappeared now, but I doubt the image will be disappearing from my memory anytime soon. "Once the task force is made aware of this message, this will be aired. We will cancel the came on the 30th, of course, and conduct an investigation there, but we will keep an eye on the other places mentioned." He takes the paper back from me a shoves it back into the depths of his pocket. "Thank you, Leila."

I sit down on the couch; no way in hell will I be able to get back to "sleep" after this. I get the feeling that L is waiting for me to leave, but since he hasn't come out and told me I'm banished to my room, I just sit.

"Aren't you planning on going back to bed?" he questions after several minutes of complete reticence except for the sounds made by his trackpad buttons.

"No," I respond simply, meeting his grey eyes. He's tall enough that, even sitting, I don't have to peer over the laptop he's got sitting between his thighs and stomach to see the upper half of his face. "Why? Is my company really that bad?"

"It hardly counts as company when you don't even say anything," he shoots back.

"Fine. Do you require some assistance with whatever it is you're doing, then?" I force politeness into my voice even as he stuffs his face with cake I didn't even know was there.

"Hm? No. I'm working on something outside of the Kira case right now, and I'm afraid that, as unrelated information, it's strictly confidential," he answers through his mouthful.

"Oh, okay," I say, remembering that, of course, as the world's greatest detective, he'd probably be working on many cases at once. "I expect you want me to leave."

I make no movement to move from my spot on the couch, but he quickly looks back up from his laptop. "Only if you want to," he says, and as he looks down, the sound of typing resumes.

"I'll stay, then," I decide, and make myself slightly more comfortable. I have become painfully aware of the fact that I'm still braless, and in rather disgusting, loose clothing, but since L isn't paying any attention anyways, I remind myself not to care.

"May I inquire further about your nightmare?" Holy shit, that didn't take long. The moment he hears I'm going to stay and he's already interrogating me.

"What makes you think I'd be any more willing to talk about it than I was that morning?" I say, failing miserably to hide my annoyance. It's not as if I really try around L, anyways.

"Often people become more willing to speak over time."

"Uh… yes, but not in this situation."

"And what is this situation?"

"'This situation' is you questioning me over a dream. Are you going to tell me you've never had a nightmare?"

"No. I don't recall screaming about blood and lacking the ability to breathe in my sleep, though."

"If I was screaming, you should have just woken me up."

"I _did _wake you up."

When did this conversation become a childish argument? I roll my eyes before answering. "It was sort of like… a flashback, or something. Just relax. It wasn't that big of a deal."

Silence.

"Screaming like you did seems to suggest otherwise."

What the hell? "No offense, but you should have better things to do than investigate the events of my past. They're unimportant, and not related to the case, so you shouldn't be wasting your time with them."

"I'll decide what to waste my time with." Jesus, if I didn't know better I'd say that L was an twelve-year-old. Everything that has come out of his mouth has been dreadfully immature. Looking back on it, I've been the same way.

"Yeah? Well, the best of luck to you," I say, and I feel the room temperature drop a good ten degrees.

"Thank you, Leila, but I don't think I'll need it."

As if. I'm not sure if he realizes how far out of reach the files from that period in particular are. I made sure that almost no one would be able to access them, although I never expected someone like L would look for them. Still, it'll take a lot of work to access that information. If there's anything he doesn't have on me, it's that.

L notices the quiet, and, again, looks up at me. "Do you have anything to say, Leila?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

I'm quick to change into my street clothes the next morning. Obviously, the task force can't be allowed to see me in my ever-flattering PJs. I hang out downstairs for a while, and L and the rest of us basically go through all of Kira's known victims since yesterday. We scour every bit of information regarding the criminals killed, even though we all know we'll find nothing.

After a good couple of hours, I walk back to my room. Mr. Yagami's just called Light, but there's no way I'll learn anything new from their conversation. Yesterday was basically the first time I've talked to L one-on-one in a while, and if that's all he gathered from that diary, I'm not going to find out any more by listening to Light or the rest of them. Besides, I'm not going to admit it to L, but staying up all morning like that exhausted me.

I lay down with the lights on. My eyes are closed and I face the ceiling. Although there's no way I'll fall asleep like this, that's not what I'm aiming for, anyways. In spite of my tiredness, I have a bad feeling about sleeping right now, and somehow I don't think L would forgive me too easily if Light heard me screaming bloody murder from down the hall.

I hear my phone ring - not L's, mine - and wince. I wasn't expecting the sound and it sends a quick wave of pain through my head. I pick up quickly. Anything to stop my ringtone.

"Er, yeah?" I greet, hoping that the other person isn't anyone important.

It seems I'm out of luck. "Leila?" says Light. What the hell? Isn't he at task force headquarters now? I open my laptop and quickly confirm that he is. L's watching him like a hawk, but it's still sort of awkward that he's calling me from task force headquarters… while I'm at task force headquarters. "Leila?" he says again.

"Oh! Hey, Light!" I say, sounding significantly more cheerful. "It's nice to hear from you! Have you got some free time?"

Light laughs at me, but, much to my surprise, answers, "Yes."

"Really? Cool, when?"

"The twenty-second, this month. I was hoping you'd come to Aoyama with a group of friends and I?"

Uh… I glance at the screen, desperately hoping the L will provide some kind of answers. What if he doesn't want me to go, and I say yes? I really don't want to be in hot water with him at the moment. "A group of friends, eh? What if I really want you all to myself?" I answer, giggling girlishly. I've retreated to the bathroom to lessen the risk of making my presence in the hotel known.

"I promise we can have plenty of fun afterwards, and I might have some free time a couple of days later as well," he assures me.

My laptop, which is sitting on the counter next to the sink, shows me that Light is faced away from L and L is… holy shit. He's staring directly into the camera. His eyes are boring into mine and we're not even in the same room. "I'd love to come," I say, feeling uncertain but luckily sounding like an excited girlfriend should sound.

"I knew you'd come!" Light proclaims cheerfully. I swear I see L give an imperceptible nod of his head, so small that even his hair remains mostly stationary.

"I'm looking forward to it! See you, Light." I hang up quickly and carry my stuff to my room. God knows that was rather anxiety inducing.

The next time I look at my laptop, everyone is clearing out, including Light. I really don't want to say anything to L after that, but at the same time I'm tempted to make sure I didn't just screw up rather badly.

I don't have to go anywhere, though. Within thirty seconds of the moment L's floor was completely clear, a loud knock sounded on my door and echoed throughout the room. I stand up to answer it, but L waltzes in without my doing anything. He does this so often I'm can of worried he'll walk in on me while I'm changing someday.

"H - "

"You're going to Aoyama with Light on the 22nd, correct?" Way to get right to the point. I would roll my eyes, but I've suddenly realized that L is advancing on me, and soon he's literally right in my face.

I take a careful step back before acknowledging his words. "Yes, I am…"

"Good," he says, and I sigh with relief. I didn't notice how tense I was earlier, but when my muscles loosen up, my entire body feels so relaxed that it's hard to miss.

"You'll keep an eye on him while he's there," he continues, and when I nod, he adds that Matsuda will be joining us.

"Alright, sounds great," I say, taking another step back. It seems that each time I step away, L takes two steps forward.

Suddenly, he asks me a question that came directly out of left field. "Are you and Light…" L begins, pausing to climb onto my bed. Because my bed is raised and the mattress itself is quite thick, he now towers over me. Feeling quite uncomfortable, I jump up as well, sitting in the middle of the bed and staring at L. He's looking down at his feet and chewing his thumb, and he's deep in thought. It's very quickly, though, that he recovers and looks up at me. "Are you and Light at all serious?"

"Ryuzaki?"

He's back to chewing on his thumbnail. I feel as if I'm going to vomit.

"Why do you need to know? And for the record, we're not. I'm faking because you asked me to, and I find it unlikely that Light is serious himself."

His thumb comes out of his mouth and he looks up at me once again. "I needed to ensure that Light was not causing any bias in your reports to me."

"Oh? Okay, then." I roll my eyes and lean back, using my arms to catch myself and keep my arched back from hitting my mattress. He's still here, and I have no clue what he wants. Unless there's something else he needs to discuss, he should go. L is literally making me feel too awkward for words right now. "So are you just going to hang out here tonight?"

Sarcasm is completely lost on L. "I may do so. I solved most of the cases I was working on during my down time today." Not only that, but he's bragging. My stomach clenches as I wonder what's causing him to act so strangely.

"Ryuzaki, are you alright?" I say, leaning my head. My hair falls into my eyes when I do so, and I search every inch of his face. Besides being completely sleep deprived, he looks healthy. "You're acting very… er, abnormally."

"Am I?" he asks, and I realize we're about to get into one of his stupid childish discussions. I close my eyes and shake my head. This is the last thing I wanted to do, but it seems I don't have an option.

Before he has a chance to retaliate, I push through the raven colored bangs draped in front of L's face. As I suspected, his hair isn't smooth like that of the straight-haired girls I used to envy, but more coarse like mine. Still, it is rather soft, and it tickles my wrist. By the time my palm and fingers have come to rest on his forehead, his eyes have widened significantly and he's staring at me from the corners of his eyes.

"Huh, you don't have a fever," I say, withdrawing my hand from his skin, which is smooth but not particularly warm. I let my hand brush against more of his hair when I pull it back to my side; it's giving me a lovely sensation that I'm not particularly proud of.

"Wh-Why did you do that?" he inquires. His voice is entirely calm, but he apparently no longer possesses the ability to control his facial expressions.

"I thought you might have a fever," I say, unable to meet his eyes for fear that I'll laugh at him. I can just see his thin, dark eyebrows near the side of his face, and they're drawn downwards, as if he's extremely confused, slightly terrified, or both. On top of that, the corners of his mouth are ever-so-slightly turned to the floor. Overall, he looks comical, especially when he sticks three of his fingers in his mouth and begins to chew on them just past the first knuckle.

"Why would I have a fever, Leila?"

This man has got to be the shittiest actor of all time.

"You're acting quite odd, you know. You usually appear to be quite calm and comfortable in your environment, but it's been quite the opposite since you entered my room." I pause to consider and add, "Maybe even longer than that."

He seems to have no response. That confirms what I was previously thinking - something's wrong.

"How long has it been since you slept?" I know L runs on very little sleep, and has been doing so for some time, but sleeplessness is the only possibility I can conjure besides real illness.

"It's been a while, but I can assure you that it hasn't been long enough to cause any serious medical problems." It's sort of hard to understand him through the fingers in his mouth (four now), but I decipher enough to know that if he's been awake long enough to cause _minor _medical issues, it's still too long. At the same time, I don't exactly have the authority to tell him to go to his room and get some rest already, goddamnit.

After some consideration, I select some carefully tailored words that will hopefully form a friendly-sounding sentence. "Perhaps you should get some rest." That's it. Why it took me so long to think of something so simple is beyond me.

"Mmm," says L, pulling his fingers from his mouth. I try not to look at them because I'm sure they're covered in his saliva, and the idea is rather disgusting. "It's likely that I should." He sighs, but doesn't get up.

_Why is this man so confusing? If he thinks he should get some rest he should get his ass off my bed and go to his own room. I'm sure he has one. _"Am I correct in presuming you're going to act on that?" I raise my left eyebrow. I practiced this expression when I was a kid, and that's the only reason I can do it now.

"Yes… I will." He looks like he's going to leave, and he once again shuffles, leaving me to wonder why the hell he hasn't fallen yet. "I can stay in here like you said?"

Shit. This guy either needs a long, long rest, or a shrink.

"Er… sure," my mouth decides in spite of myself. My hands quickly move my laptop safely from my bed and onto the counter. I shut it down and plug it into the charger, which is thankfully not one that lights up when it's plugged in. By the time I've turned around, L has wriggled himself under the covers and in the center of my bed. _Of course. _I sigh. Not that I could have really slept by him, anyways. I creep over to the door, where the light switch is, and get ready to flick it out. The door is slightly ajar, and as my hand touches the knob I hear the sudden and obnoxious sound of L forcing his body upwards.

"Please stay," says the calm, monotone voice of the dark-haired detective.

"O-of course. I was going to stay anyways…" No I wasn't. I was going to switch off the light and retreat to the couch. Why can't L just sleep in his own bed. If Watari can't find L in the morning and comes in here looking for him…

I switch off the light and close the door. I hear the sound of the world's greatest detective falling back into my bed and rolling over, I suppose so I can sleep on the other side.

_This is too creepy to be true… _I pull up the covers on the right side of the bed and slip in. I keep my body close to the edge and try to push back both of the unwelcome feelings in my abdominal area: the nausea, and the ever-famous "butterflies". I face away from him, but my head turns slightly and I look in his general direction. It's so dark in here that I'd never be able to see him, but I can hear the soft, even sound of his breathing. He's not so close that I would touch him if I rolled more comfortably to the center, and I quickly do so. I'm thankful when the mattress doesn't creak, but I know he must feel the sudden shift that signals I'm much closer than I was.

My eyes close and I try to control by breathing. _Inhale, hold it, exhale. Everything's fine… inhale, hold, exhale… _After two long minutes, my body had fallen into the rhythm it usually does before I fall into a peaceful sleep. In spite of everything, I may actually get a good night's rest.

When I was little, I had a habit of falling asleep with my elbow propped up against my stomach and my hand dangling just above my face. The second I hit unconsciousness, my hand would hit my face. Not only did it wake me up, but usually, in my half-conscious state, I would think it was someone else's hand.

Tonight, under the warmth and safety of the sheets and thin comforter of the new hotel we're staying at, I feel a hand touch mine. My stupid childhood sleeping habit is the first thing that comes to mind, but this time, it really is someone else's hand.

Ironically, I just about have a heart attack. I swallow my scream, however, and remind myself that it's just L and I do _sort of _trust him not to do anything too weird while I'm asleep. At first, I feel a single finger touching the tip of my own. Other fingers soon join and soon, L's fingers are tracing the lines on my own hand, and his fingers are running up and down my own. It because startlingly clear to me that this man has no awareness of human boundaries, although I already knew that his social skills were lacking. At the same time, I would have thought that he'd know that… _this_… is not normal behavior.

I note with a start that his hand has been resting on my wrist for some time now. I may never quite reach L's level of genius, but I have a feeling, a feeling I highly suspect is true, that L is taking my pulse. This makes me quite uncomfortable because I know it's skyrocketing.

_Damn you and your shitty acting skills, L._

I let him hold my wrist like that for as long as I am conscious.

* * *

I've apparently done something to earn some good karma, because at around 5 o'clock, both L and I are awake. No one finds us in bed together. I moved a bit closer to L in the night, and when I woke up, his hand was resting on my arm. L had been awake for some time and had not bothered to remove it.

Thankfully, no one was any the wiser.

* * *

On the 22nd, Watari drops me off at my apartment complex about a half hour before Light comes to pick me up. My stomach twists in an anxious knot. There's always the possibility that something will happen on this trip to Aoyama; after all, I know it's not just a date.

Light is actually a bit early, and when he arrives to pick me up, he looks me over before saying anything. Needless to say, I was sort of forced into overdressing… or at least, in my opinion. According to a certain young task force member, I don't have the clothes suitable for a date, and the next thing I knew Watari was giving me a shitload of expensive clothes that were sort of my style and sort of _not _my style. For instance, I was allowed to wear my black pants, and my high-top Converses were, to me, not debatable. Unfortunately, I had to wear this godawful burgundy blouse. It was sleeveless and had quite a lot of lace on it, and while it wasn't immodest in still managed to shoved off my cleavage. The black leather jacket I was wearing made me feel a little more comfortable, but not much.

"You look lovely," he whispered to me as I buried my face in his shirt and gave him a quick hug. He was practically purring, and even though it sort of disgusted me, I was a bit pleased with his reaction. "I've been looking forward to today."

"I have too," I say, taking in the too-familiar smell of his cologne. Although I find very little comforting in Light himself, the familiarity is nice.

"Taro, these are my friends from school," Light explains. He's standing by Matsuda, and the group of friends he'd mentioned, myself included, were gathered around the boys in a semicircle. Luckily, Matsuda is a smarter man than he seems, because he gives no indication of knowing me.

"H-hi, guys," he stutters, sounding incredibly shy and adorable at once.

"So this is my cousin Taro," Light tells us all, flicking his hand in Matsuda's direction. "This is his first time in Tokyo, and he wanted to check out all the sights with us." The idea is so ridiculous that the entire group bursts into a friendly laughter. I'm only laughing because Matsuda's expression is priceless. "And he's also looking for a girlfriend, so if anyone wants to volunteer…" The laughter intensifies.

"Hey… Light…" Matsuda protests, his expression even better than it was before.

By the time we begin walking, I'm practically snorting with laughter.

* * *

**-3rd Person POV-**

* * *

Misa was considerably less than happy. She had been sitting at this stupid table all day, and Kira had failed to show up.

"Rem!" she screeched as she walked back home. "You told Misa that she'd know who Kira was! You said his lifespan wouldn't show up."

"Yes, I did," said the creature behind her. "I assure you it is the truth."

"Why didn't Misa find Kira, then?" said the girl, almost inspired to tears. "Kira promised he would come…"

The creature behind her trudges along in silence, knowing that Misa will continue to complain until she does something rash. This was not what the shinigami had intended when she brought Gelus's Death Note to Earth for the model.

Misa shoves in the door to her apartment. Inside is her home sweet home. The walls are covered with band posters and the occasional fashion poster. "SEXY DYNAMITE!" reads one poster. Strange dolls sit on the counters, their odd bodies stitched together by an unprofessional hand.

"Misa knows what to do!" She digs around in her piles of possessions, and pulls out a video camera.

* * *

**Well... that chapter was and easy one to write, admittedly.**

**I hope you noticed we're veering slightly off of the canon path! Since that's now the case, chapters may take a bit longer to write. Thanks for your patience!**

**This is easily the longest chapter I've written at nearly 6,500 words, not including the dividers and author's note. I think I'll try and stick with a 5,500+ word chapter from now on. I hope that sounds good to all of you.**

**Anyways, any thoughts on this chapter? Cookies to anyone who can guess why Misa couldn't find Light. /hinthint /itscorny**

**That's to all the new followers, the faves, and any reviewers. I love you guys 3 You make my day!**


	12. Metamorphosis

"Matsuda reports that nothing unusual occurred in Aoyama," L conveys. He's speaking to me, I know, but he's speaking _at _the potted plant across the room. I roll my eyes; I've apparently done something that warrants being semi-ignored. L is sitting right next to me - too close, in my opinion - on the couch, but is simultaneously staying as far away from me as possible. Luckily, Watari comes in with something of an icebreaker: a tray covered in sweets for L, some tea, and, of course, a bowl of sugar cubes. Even as Watari sets the tray in front of L, though, I'm resisting the urge to move.

Watari sets a lovely piece of chocolate cake in front of me. I'm suddenly reminded of the first time I met L as L. "Mm," I say, partially in response to L but mostly in response to the slice of cake.

"Did you notice anything at all odd…" His eyes follow Watari to the door, and I hear the sound of said door closing. "...Leila?"

Sometimes it's like he thinks my name is our little secret or something. it's absolutely ridiculous. "No," I answer quite plainly, rolling my eyes. "I suppose Light did enough looking around that he made it obvious, though." I thoughtfully lick some frosting from my fork, and suddenly realize that L is doing the same thing. It sends a chill down my spine; this guy's weird habits are starting to rub off on me way too much. I left my thought hanging, though, so I quickly add, "That's what we were supposed to be doing anyways."

The truth is that Light did do something that struck me as very odd. We were simply walking around and the cheerful mood of the group was really starting to get to me. Matsuda was walking behind Light and I with the others, and true to L's word, he was keeping a close eye on Light.

Finally, Light said something that was either very funny or really cute. I can't even remember what it was anymore, but my inner female kissed him on the mouth as we were walking. It was a short kiss, but when my eyes flickered open towards the end of it, I noticed that Light's eyes were wide open. They probably had been throughout the whole kiss, too. The rest of the group didn't notice and thought the scene was adorable, because the next thing I knew, the group had totally surrounded us. We all ended up wandering about in a huddle, with Light and I tucked into the center of his giggling girlfriends and young men who existed to tease Light at that moment.

Even though I still thought the kissing-with-your-eyes-open thing was a bit off, I didn't think it was a big deal After all, it might have meant that I surprised him. But later, I looked over at him and his eyes weren't shifty like the had been before we kissed, and there was a hint of irritation in his brown eyes. Needless to say, I was confused. At first, I thought the reason he was a bit irritated at me was because he couldn't watch the streets through his crowd of friends, and that's what he was supposed to be doing. Still, he wasn't even trying to look around, even though no one was standing in his way at that point. It didn't make any sense for him to just stop looking like that.

I ended up heading straight back "home" after Aoyama because Light told me he had something important to do. We'd hang out soon, he had promised me.

Of course, I'm unsure whether or not this was relevant information, and I have no intention of revealing it if it's not. Depending what I decide, I might "remember" later tonight, or tomorrow.

L's voice is what snaps me out of my reverie. "Leila, you've been staring into the distance for seven minutes now."

"Hm? Oh, I guess so," I say, looking down and finding that I must have eaten my cake when I was out of it. There's not even a single crumb on the plate. It's really a shame because I don't even have the aftertaste anymore.

Wait… I never set my fork _on _the plate after I finish eating. I set my utensils on a napkin next to my plate, which means…

"Did you enjoy that cake?" I snap.

"Yes, I did," L replies.

_You little shit._

"Glad to hear it," comes my cold reply.

I feel like that information is definitely relevant. I shouldn't withhold it just because L ate my slice of cake.

"Did you have something else to say? You appeared to be thinking earlier." Wow, I'm sure it took a rocket scientist to figure that out.

"Yes, actually," I decide, and quickly recount the one thing I picked up on the entire time we were in Aoyama. "I think it's strange that he was only paying attention to his surroundings when we were in a certain part of Aoyama," I finish, and take a cup of tea that L has pushed over to my side of the coffee table in front of us. I take a sip of it only to find that, while it isn't gritty with sugar, it is repulsively sweet. I swallow it down so I don't have to taste in any longer, but unfortunately there seems to be a lingering aftertaste. _Can I have some tea to go with my sugar next time? Thanks._

"And what area was that?" L asks. It's not as if that one observation is going to make or break the case, but I was sort of expecting that anyways.

"I can't remember, exactly. Ask Matsuda," I suggest. "… he seemed to think the whole thing was more than a little amusing."

L simply shakes his head, as if nothing more is expected of Matsuda. "I'll do that. Even assuming he does know, we'll be watching all the surveillance footage from Aoyama on the 22nd regardless."

"Right," I say, as if anything I say really matters at this point. I watch L lick some chocolate frosting off one of his fingers, but luckily for him, the task force beings to file in before I can strangle him.

* * *

On the afternoon of the 25th, I'm watching my laptop. It's gotten to the point where I watch video feed of the investigation only when I'm very bored. They never make any progress because there's very little material evidence to go on. I may as well be watching paint dry… or watching rocks erode.

Needless to say, watching the video feed I have access to just makes me even more bored than usual.

"Ryuzaki," says Watari's voice, sharp to the point that it's quite unusual, "Sakura TV has received a message from the second Kira. The postmark is the 23rd."

"Again?" Soichiro gasps.

"I'll send you the file over this computer first," Watari continues.

Everyone in the room sits in silence. They all know - and I know - that there's only one reason the Second Kira would send in another message: to advertise to the world that she outsmarted the police and met the original Kira. That announcement is the last thing we want to hear. The consequences of the two meeting could be disastrous… worse than disastrous.

"Kira, I still want to meet you," says the voice I have come to dispise. 'I still want to meet you…' Clearly, this means the Second Kira didn't bump into the first. But is she really so stupid? She sent in this message on the 23rd… one day after the journal mentioned Auyama. It must be clear to anyone who paid attention that the Kiras were supposed to meet in Aoyama on the twenty-second, and the Second Kira was there even if the first wasn't.

What was she supposed to be doing in Aoyama again? Something about schoolwork?

The voice continues. It's easy to hear the frustration of the person speaking, and that's quite a feat. Synthing your voice tends to make emotions less detectable. "This time, I ask you to find a way for us to meet. I believe that you can create a better future for this world, and I want nothing more than to assist you in your endeavors." I remember L saying that the Second Kira operates off of their own feelings, and I quietly agree with him The way the Second Kira speaks gives it away. It's like she said, she wants to help Kira. She wants to meet Kira. She doesn't seem to care much about his mission, though. I wonder what fuels this obsession…

The tape cuts off. It's surprisingly short, but I know there's a lot of information we can get from it. For example, the Aoyama journal entry should have hinted at what the Kiras were to be doing in Aoyama. As an added note, the Second Kira has been leaving hairs on the envelopes she's sent in. The likelihood of finding more of her hairs and possibly some fingerprints is high. We also know that the Second Kira was in Aoyama on the 22nd, most likely for the entire day. That doesn't narrow it down much, but it still helps.

Much to my surprise, almost every man on the task force looks dreadfully confused, until Aizawa finally spits, "So they didn't meet." No shit, Sherlock.

"It would seem so," L mutters, his eyes still fixed on the screed of his laptop. I can actually see the laptop today, and as I'm watching L watching his laptop, he looks directly into the camera. I hate it when he does that. Even though he's not in the room, I still feel like I'm being studied. To my relief, he lowers his gaze and begins to chew on his fingers.

"This means we have more time to prevent their meeting," says Soichiro. Before, he sounded so drained, but he now sounds newly energized.

"Are we going to send a message from our Kira?" Matsuda asks, and I can't help but laugh. "Our Kira".

"No… we'll continue to leave this up to the two Kiras. It's as we discussed earlier; if the Second Kira does not receive a reply of some kind, she's likely to give away more information that the original Kira would rather keep quiet. This will back him into a corner, and he will have to reply in some way."

I keep waiting for Light to pitch in. He doesn't. He's sitting down in an armchair… and he looks furious.

I turn away from my laptop. The looks in Light's eyes is full of disgust and hatred. I never knew he was really capable of holding such a look.

I decide to check my notes from the Second Kira's last message.

_22nd My friend and I showed off our notebooks in Aoyama._

My _friend and I_… showed off our… _notebooks_… in Aoyama.

The Second Kira is obsessed with the original. She wants to be his friend, or maybe more. Even if he doesn't feel the same way, going off of the Second Kira's reasoning, they are still connected. _My friend and I…_

They were, of course, going to prove that they possessed Kira's killing power, each to the other. That's what they were "showing", but what does Kira have to do with a notebook? … _showed off our notebooks…_

Aoyama. What was significant about Aoyama? How was Kira supposed to know where in Aoyama to go? It's a big place, so there must have been someplace that would have been notable to the two of them… but what place?

The puzzle doesn't want to solved. It seems that I'm missing some pieces, and of the pieces that I do have, none of them fit. Which means the key… is finding another piece.

* * *

All I can think of is a search engine.

As the ever famous saying goes: _Google is your friend._

I think of all the things I could possibly type without looking like an idiot. Sometimes, I get really paranoid that L is watching my desktop. I know he certainly could, and based off of his past behaviors, he would, too.

After several minutes of consideration, I decide to go with something simple.

_aoyama may 22 2004_

My results all look basically useless. I get a map of the area, and an Ask page with a list of "All the BEST place to shopp in aoyama!1!"

_aoyama notebook_

I'm not expecting to get much from this one, and I don't really. There're a bunch of random blurbs about the Second Kira's message, but that's about all.

_aoyama book_

A couple of relevant links appear. They're websites for popular bookstores in Aoyama, and although I see very little significance in either of them, I'm not Kira. Kira definitely knows more about this than I do.

_aoyama noted3qwrwq_

"Ryuzaki!" I squeal, my hands smashing into my keyboard as I hurriedly shut down my laptop. "W-when did you get here?"

"Four seconds ago, actually," L says. For some reason his voice is slightly deeper than usual, and it's bothering me. A lot.

You know what else is bothering me? The fact that L has come into my room uninvited at least once a day for a while now.

"Did I interrupt anything?" he asks me suddenly, and although his question sounds innocent, and his voice is monotone as always, I'm uncomfortable with the question. He probably thinks I was watching pornos or something. My scrambling to shutdown the laptop doesn't exactly help my case, either.

"No," I answser firmly. I don't even bother to ask what he's doing in here. I don't have to - he'll get to it eventually.

"I never expected this to happen," L mutters. "I was nearly certain that Kira would make an effort to meet the Second Kira." I deadpan, but mentally, I'm on the verge of bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. _Oh? So you were wrong!_

Instead, I'm a bit more polite than that. "It's possible that he did try to meet the Second Kira, but perhaps his attempt failed?" I suggest, shrugging. I, too, find it hard to believe that Kira would ignore such a message. He must have known that he was backed into a corner, and that if the Second Kira didn't get her way, there would be consequences. "Besides, this could be beneficial to the investigation. I expect you gathered a lot of information from that last tape?"

L nods his head in silent agreement and quickly slides three fingers in his mouth. I suppose that's his way of killing stress. Sighing, I slide off the bed to join him where he stands. I've felt sort of conflicted about letting him sit on my bed since… well, since he slept in it.

"It's clear that the two Kiras were to meet in Aoyama," L drones quietly, finally breaking the silence. "It has also become clear to me that we can use the journal sent by the Second Kira to our advantage."

I nod, but don't say anything. I'm not sure what to say, to be honest. The simple fact is that L knows everything I know about this and very likely more. I don't want to interrupt his train of thought for fear that I might miss something.

His head turns so quickly, I'm surprised it doesn't throw him off balance. I stare into the dark pools that are his eyes, and he draws his fingers away from his lips.

_He has a pretty nice mo -_

_No._

"I believe it is a possibility that the area of Aoyama we discussed earlier may be connected to the Kiras' meeting place. Are you certain you don't remember where that was?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure," I say, feeling quite disappointed in myself. "I couldn't really see after… after Light's friends crowded around us."

"Hm," is the single sound L makes in response. He turns back and begins checking on his fingers again. "I'll call Matsuda to ask," he begins, and I nod, thinking he's finishes. "… now." My eyes widen as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. I thought he'd at least wait to try and follow a potentially huge lead until "his" men returned to task force HQ tomorrow. The more I think about it, though, I decide that would be extremely uncharacteristic of L. There's a reason he doesn't get any sleep… he's a workaholic.

"Matsuda," he says suddenly, dragging me back down to Earth. I don't have to work hard to picture Matsuda's face; he'll be so confused for getting a call from Ryuzaki this late, and only a few minutes after he left headquarters, too. "I need to know where you were in Aoyama when Miss Hill kissed Light." Well… didn't that sound a bit weird coming out of his mouth.

"Yes, that," L sighs, biting his thumb even during his conversation. I imagine he's quite annoyed at Matsuda as he's likely failing to get an answer, but even I have to admit that the question he asked sounded… wrong. "Matsuda, I assure you that is not my purpose in asking this question…" His voice is growing so frustrated, it sounds quite intimidating. I'd be surprised if Matsuda isn't cowering in the safety of his car right now.

"Thank you, Mr. Matsuda," L says finally, and hangs up. I suddenly notice that he's holding his phone in the same way that he holds everything else - a two-fingered pinch, as if he thinks it's carrying the Black Death.

I let his dark eyes meet mine, and I suddenly notice that he's smiling at me. It's the same very adorable smile he's given me whenever he's particularly pleased with something he's said or done. it appears surprisingly little, and it's all I need to see to know Matsuda knew _exactly _where our group was when I kissed Light. The idea makes me smile back, my own smile being a haphazard grin in which one corner of my lips is pulled up slightly, and a dimple becomes very visible in my cheeks. It's one of my more regrettable traits; another trait that ruins my face, which is actually quite pretty. My smile is really too boyish to suit me.

"So Matsuda knew where we were, then?" I ask, although I already know the answer.

"Yes," L confirms. "It seems that Matsuda was paying attention…" I raise one eyebrow, unsure of whether that was a joke or a scolding. Probably both.

I watch him turn to go and have a feeling I won't be seeing him again tonight. "Goodnight, Leila," is all he says before he quietly closes the door. I wait until I can hear him walking down the hall.

_What was I searching? Aoyama something or other._ One of the things I hate about this laptop is that all my internet activity is completely wiped after I shut it down. As a result, I don't get to depend on search history.

I restart the cycle of typing "Aoyama" and variations of "notebook" in the search engine. I even try some of the most ridiculous spelling errors I can think of.

_aoyama notebook_

_aoyama note book_

_aoyama note-book_

_aoyama note_

Finally, at "aoyama note", I get a result. It's even more clear than the bookstores I made not of earlier. There's a web page for some club called the "Note Blue". There was a concert there on the 22nd, and the video footage on their site shows that plenty of people came to see the concert. Not only does the club's name contain the word "note", but the concert would have given the Kiras a reason to be there. They could both claim they'd gone for the concert, and no one would pay them any attention.

I stand up and open my door. It's been about a half-hour and then some since L left, and I wonder if he's come to the same conclusion. He likely works at twice the speed that I do.

L is camped out on the couched, his back turned to me. From what I can see, he's looking at the entire situation from a very different angle, and is researching only the places in a distinct area of Aoyama.

"Ryuzaki?" I say, my voice quiet. Living in close quarters with others is a fine art. Whether or not you feel a person is aware of your presence, make sure they're aware of you before speaking at a normal volume or touching them. There's no guarantee, but if you scare someone without meaning to, they might end up hurting you whilst thinking that they're simply defending themselves. I learned that lesson the hard way.

"I didn't expect you to be up," he comments, probably glancing at the time in the bottom-right of his computer screen.

"It's not that late," I say, shaking my head, but my tired body begs to differ.

"Do you need something, then?" I suddenly notice that, for once, he doesn't have a cup of tea or a pastry or a cake with him. it almost seems unnatural.

"Is there a club called the Note Blue in the area that Matsuda mentioned?" I asked quickly.

It takes him less than three seconds to produce an answer.

"Yes, there is." There's a rather uncomfortable pause. "I assume you've deduced that this was where the Kiras were supposed to meet in Aoyama?"

I knew he'd have it figured out already. "Yes, actually. It looks like you were way ahead of me, though." I grace my face with my boyish grin, although L can't see it from here.

L shakes his head, as if to say, _Not really. _"I came to that conclusion only minutes ago."

I can't help but think that's untrue, but who am I to doubt his word? I shrug in response, uncure of what else to say. I'm tired, but at the same time, I don't feel like going to bed. Some nights, I go to bed feeling like I'm suspended in a pool of water, and in the tense atmosphere, I can't breathe. I'm kept awake on those nights anyways, and this seems to be one of them. The thought of sleep is nothing more than laughable to me now.

I consider camping out on the couch again, but I don't feel like hovering around L after he's made such an important discovery.

"Can I go out?" I blurt finally. I've gotten quite used to asking permission to go anywhere. That certainly doesn't make it any less annoying, but it's not as embarrassing as it once was.

"Of course," L tells me. "Please take your phone with you." I nod; the phone is how L tracks me when I'm not at headquarters. The men wear belts, but since I wear skinny jeans, a belt would just look out of place on me. Besides, I adamantly refused one the first week I lived with L, and he considered me thoughtfully before pointing out that he had other ways of knowing where I was… at all times.

I doubt if he knows of the line between staying safe and becoming a stalker sometimes.

A few minutes later, I walk from the hotel and wander along the streets. Honestly, it's not that safe for me to be out at night, especially not alone, but I suppose L was in such a good mood that he overlooked it. Besides, the crime rates have gone down significantly as a result of the two Kiras, so it's hard to worry too much.

There's a spring in my step as I walk. It's so nice to be outside without Light's company, and to be out purely for the purposes of relaxation. Every time I've been outdoors lately, someone has been with me, or it's been for a few brief moments while I waited for someone else to arrive. It's been too long since I felt this kind of freedom.

It suddenly occurs to me that I have no idea what I'm going to be doing on my night out. It appears that my emotional high has inhibited my ability to think. I stop where I am and consider a few options. I could wander around all night and simply walk. I could go to a cafe, but in terms of food, room service at L's hotel is more than adequate. The most appealing option by far involves tracking down a bookstore. One of my very few normal hobbies is reading, and I haven't bought any new books in a while. I had to quit my job when I had to move in with L, and ever since then, rather substantial wads of cash had been appearing in my purse from time to time.

It takes surprisingly little time to find a book shop, even at this time of night, and when I walk in I can smell glue bindings and fresh paper and the musty smell of new books. The mixture is bizarrely appealing to me, and it always has been.

There's a lot of manga, of course, and I do pick a couple of them at random for light reading. As silly as it is, skimming through something simple and full of imagery has a unique way of clearing my mind. I've always been more of the novel type, though, and I soon have a pile of them. They will surely occupy any spare time that I have for some time.

All the same, I feel as if I'm missing something.

I remember filing a mental note some time ago. Something I needed to study… it seemed important, too. My fingers trail over the spines of books as I walk, my hands free since I've left my other books in a neat stack nearby. My eyes scan each titles they pass over, hoping for a reminder.

_If it was recent… the only important thing I can think of is the Kira case._

"Oh," I gasp, and feel suddenly grateful that there are no other customers at the moment. "Shinig - er, Japanese mythology. That'll be nonfiction, then…"

There's a surprising abundance of books covering that particular topic. This, too, can probably be traced back to Kira. Once it became clear that his murders were not committed in a natural way, I'm sure demand for books of this type skyrocketed. Either way, I collect a pile of those books, too, and add them with my stack of novels.

The clerk appears quite stunned that I'm purchasing so much at once, but he certainly doesn't question it.

When I get back to the hotel, the bag handles have made impressions on my arms. It may prove to be well worth it, though…

* * *

_Shinigami, or gods of death, are deities that invite humans to their deaths…_

_Gods of death are similar in some ways to reapers…_

Needless to say, the books I get for research are rather useless, not that I expected too much out of them. Still, I suppose it was worth the effort.

I wonder if it's a possibility that "shinigami" really was no more than a code word. It still makes no sense to me how the Second Kira expected the first to understand said code word, however, when they had failed to make contact with each other by that point in time. Therefore, "shinigami" must have a very clear meaning. I simply don't know what that meaning is, and it's frustrating. I can hypothesize all I want, but no matter how likely, I have no way of proving any of my theories. One, by far the most simple, is that "shinigami" simply refers to the Kiras' supernatural powers to kill.

I consider other, wilder things as well. I wonder if it could refer to a location, or a group of people. No matter where I go, it seems that I am short on answers.

Shinigami… there must be some significance to that word…

* * *

To-Oh University has become a very tense environment. With the Second Kira appearing, and the Kira killings intensifying, debates among the student body are spiraling out of control.

"I totally believe Kira is doing the right thing!" a girl with a throaty voice croaks at her friend.

"I don't know…" her friend agrees, trying to sound casual. As they walk away, I hear each girl's volume raise just enough that it's as if they're not walking away from me at all.

Discussions like these make me feel nauseas, simply because very few of those who take the time to argue about it have been sure to educate themselves. Many of them have done very little research on Kira's methods, and very few of them have bothered to pick apart his character. Even worse are the people that slander L. The simple fact of the matter is that many people didn't even know of L's existence until the broadcast last year, but they have the nerve to think they can gather who he is from that broadcast. Even those who are against the Kiras and their vicious actions always seem to comment on how slow things are going, and how they "expected better of such an esteemed investigator". If only they knew.

My footsteps fall on the ground. Each one seems to send a rush, a shock, through my legs and eventually to my head. The headache I woke up with this morning is killing me, but I have never missed a class because of something as silly as a headache, and I don't intend to start now. I focus all my energy into ignoring the throbbing throughout my head, and especially to ignoring the stabbing sensation behind my eyes. I've stood though worse, but it still stinks to feel like this when I've got a grand total of three classes today. It'll be a challenge to sit through them in this state.

I sit down in the far back of the classroom when I reach it. Some otherworldly wisdom is hinting that it's a good idea, and although I don't want to consider it, I may have to leave class early. I don't want to interrupt the class, and I suppose sitting close to the doors is the best way to do that.

I somehow manage to focus during the class, and I nearly forget the pains from earlier. My body feels relaxed, and the feeling of my stomach wanting to eject itself from my body has seemingly disappeared.

I'm in the middle of my third class. Honestly, I decide that whatever was going on may have had something to do with my lack of proper rest lately. Whatever the reason, I'm feeling better until I lean forward and rest my face in my hand, which is propped up by the wooden desk underneath my elbow. I suddenly felt as though my every sense was hightened. The teacher's words were so loud that my ears could have been bleeding, and my eyes shut on their own accord to block out the unwelcome light. My face feels very warm, and my skin feels sickly underneath my fingers.

Regardless of whether this is a real symptom of illness, I have often found that my body often tries to fool itself into believing it is racked with fever when I'm about to be ill. The minute I gain the courage to open my eyes, I grab my small bag of possessions and leave the class.

"Fuck," I mutter, surprising myself. I rarely curse out loud, in spite of how often the words seem to come up in my thoughts. "I must have caught something when I was out a couple of nights ago…"

When I reach a restroom, I'm so ill that I don't even make it to a toilet. I find myself vomiting into the nearest sink, and my mouth fills with the foul taste of bile. I lean over the sink for a short minute and close my eyes, hoping that I'm done. There are few things I find more repulsive than throwing up, and if I have to do it I prefer for it to be over with all at once. This won't matter, though, if I've caught a bug like I suspect I have.

I lean back, slowly and carefully, afraid that I might collapse if I right myself too quickly. I'm suddenly aware that I should have headed home before my first class instead of staying at To-Oh all day. My pride has gotten the best of me…

I watch the vomit spiral into the drain as I rinse it out. I wash my face, but the unpleasant odor of partially digested food and chemicals still lingers in the air. I find myself hoping that the smell is the sink, and not me, even as I stumble out of the bathroom and back onto the sidewalk.

Watari's not supposed to be here to pick me up for another hour, and the very thought of remaining here for that long is agonizing. As much as I prefer to avoid bothering L or Watari for any reason as they work, I decide that my agonized body and possible fever are reason enough to feel like going "home".

As it is, I have to go back into the restroom to use L's smartphone, which now has a way of contacting Watari. Oddly enough, he's actually on my contacts list. He doesn't have his own app like L, but I'm sure there's some rhyme or reason behind it.

"Miss Hill," says the familiar grandfatherly voice on the other end of the line, before the phone has a chance to ring a single time. I gasp, to which he responds, "Are you quite alright, Miss Hill?"

"Urgh… no, not really," I say, leaning against the bathroom walls for some much needed support. "Would it be possible for you… to… pick me up…?"

"Yes, of course, Miss Hill. I'll be there to get you momentarily.

He hangs up rather quickly, leaving me to stuff the phone in my bag and walk to the quiet area where Watari usually picks me up. I have to walk into a more deserted area of campus where fewer people will see the limousine as L declared, and rightly so, that it would be in my best interest for people not to notice that I have the same ride home as Hideki Ryuga.

Luckily for me, Watari seems to have enough experience with sick people to know that I don't want - or need - to walk that far. He meets me halfway, and I collapse into the backseat… onto a person.

_Holy mother of God. Please tell me that I didn't do that._

"Leila?" I feel someone's hot breath on the back of my neck of my neck, and the air is suddenly filled with the smell of something sweet. Sweet, and sort of fruity. Strawberry, pineapple, mango, cherry… I can't be sure what it is exactly, but its presence is enough to confirm my fears.

I feel smooth skin collide with my cheek in four different places, which is enough to force my eyes open before L's entire hand covers the side of my face. "What're you doi - "

"Hm. You've got a rather high fever, you know," says L's suddenly soft voice. My body is entirely leaned into his, and I don't like the impression of clinginess. The second his hand leaves my face, I move to the right and lean into the door instead. Why the hell is he even in the car, anyways? There's no way he came here just because of me. It's not like he has time to waste… does he?

Whatever the reason, L half carries me through the hotel and upstairs. I don't get sick often, and when I do, it's pretty bad, so I'm incapable of almost anything right now. Although I'm grateful, I also feel slightly embarrassed that the world's greatest detective is seeing me in the worst possible state that I could be in, really.

The contact between us is distressing, at least for me. I don't know why, but touching L has always put me in a strange state of mind that I don't quite know how to deal with. Not knowing how to deal with something is one of my worst fears, one of the hardest things for me to put up with. It isn't that I dislike L so much as my disliking the fact that I don't know how I really do feel about him. Like? Tolerate? Are we friends? Or coworkers?

I know that L himself doesn't seem like someone who's into physical contact with other people, but all I can bring to mind is the night when he stayed in my room, held my hand, took my pulse… I doubt this bothers him much unless he's not good around illness. And if that's the case, he's certainly not showing it.

I suddenly realize that I have gone from sort of walking with support to being carried. _What in God's name did I catch? Fuck! This is so bad… _I feel the hands that I've come to think of as attractive: one one my back and the other one on my thigh. Their presence fades quickly, and I open my eyes for a short moment. I'm being placed into bed… covers are being wrapped around me. Someone is speaking but I'm not sure what it is they're saying. My eyelids fall again and form curtains that block the light of day.

**Hey, ya'll! I know this chapter is a bit less exciting that the previous one, but it's a bit of a filler. I have a lot to cover in the next chapter and if I tried to cram it all into this one, it would have been too long for my liking.**

**And if you're one of the people going, "Man, way to overreact over a bug or a fever!" I understand where you're coming from. However, it is possible (very possible and quite common) for a person to react to a fever this way. Particularly if a person doesn't get sick often because of their sanitary habits (as opposed to simply having a strong immune system), when they **_**do **_**get sick it tends to be worse than a "normal" fever.**

**Thanks for all the faves/follows/reviews! I'll be updating soon.**


	13. Shinigami

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The morning comes and goes. When I first wake up and the popcorn ceiling blurs in my eyes, I realize that I feel fine. Not only that, but I slept hard. I feel as if I could run laps around the world, however foolish that would be. It appears that I had a twenty-four hour flu, or something similar, anyways.

It is largely to my embarrassment that I recall falling into the lap of the great detective and taking several minutes - an eternity, really - to move as far away as possible. Seeing as that particular memory is fresh in my mind, it becomes rather important to offer comfort to myself.

_It was _his _fault for sitting so close to the door._

_How was he supposed to know that _you _were going to collapse on him?_

_I was leaving school early - he must have known I was ill!_

_It's not as if L knows that you have such a shitty immune system!_

_He has my medical records!_

_You mean the ones that say you _never _get sick?_

Unfortunately, my more selfish side quickly loses to the commonsensical part of me. I know I'll have to apologize soon, and to me, nothing is more humiliating than having to force an apology between gritted teeth. I hate the feeling I get from confessing my wrongs and leaving the decision to forgive in the hands of another, especially since I trust no one. Even if I did ask forgiveness easily, I know it would always be in the back of my mind: _one never knows if they will be forgiven, or if the forgiveness they receive is true._

L doesn't seem the forgiving type to me.

I pull the sheets from my body, and the cold air bites at my sweaty skin. Sure enough, I smell of sick and probably look about as bad as I felt last night. A shower, i decide, will be a comfort as well as a necessity in this situation.

When my feet touch the ground, I anticipate bodily aches similar to those that I experienced yesterday. Much to my relief, the pain is absent and it becomes apparent that whatever illness plagued me yesterday is no longer present. I allow myself to sigh with pleasure, and my only partially awake body stumbles to my dressers. My fingers pick out garments at random, and I drag myself to the bathroom.

Only moments later i stand in the shower. Streams of water run down my hair, and from my forehead around my cheeks and down my chin, or tickle my thighs as they run down my smooth skin. The water is heated enough that it's turning my skin and uncomfortable red, but I need it to hide the blush creeping up my neck.

Only seconds after I woke up, I had tied down a snippet of a memory before it ran from the daytime. As it happens, the memory was really more of a dream that was brought on from my delirious state last night. It's a rare occasion when I have dreams that aren't very plainly nightmares, and last night was one of those nights. Instead, I had a dream that embarrasses every part of me, and I have a feeling that similar ones will haunt me in the days to come.

In my dream, I was, of course ill. I was vomiting, and even in the dream, all the unpleasantries involved with throwing up were very much there. I desperately wanted to stop, to take a breath, to experience calm. But suddenly there were fingers, fingers trailing from my temples to my ears, their delicate touch pulling my hair away from my face. I never did see the finders, or the hand that came with it, or the owner themselves. However, a second hand made its way to my back, its touch seemingly awkward and nervous, as if the owner was rather… put off. Once the hand had entirely settled onto my back, I notice how large it was, and that the fingers were long and thin.

This dream is an embarrassing one for a simple reason, really. My mother was always hungover, so there was plenty of throwing up in my childhood home. I remember one day I found my father doing something rare and special: comforting her through her sickness. Later that night, my mother had fixed her eyes on mine and told me that when someone holds your hair from your face when you vomit instead of flinching away, disgusted, it's a sign of love. Even as a child, I knew that there must be something to that statement. For once my mother's words were not slurred, but clear.

Of course, it is now rather clear who those hands belonged to, which is another source of humiliation. First I fall onto him, and now I'm dreaming of him? Thoughts like these haven't bothered me since I was still in middle school, and they aren't welcome now.

I watch the last of my soap spin into the drain beneath my feet and turn off the water before I have a chance to think about it.

My clothing sticks to my wet skin, and even my hair is unusually flat because of the water still trapped in it. The cool feeling of water on my neck is appreciated after the boiling temperatures in the shower; my skin, however, is still pink.

I sit down on my bed and twist around until I can see the alarm clock on the nightstand. I've always hated digital clocks; the light

from the red, glowing numbers tends to cause a glow throughout the entire room, and I can't sleep when it's like that. Besides, digital clock-style numbers are so tacky that it seems out of place in the new hotel. Everything is lovely here, from the huge TVs in every room to the artwork that decorated the walls… except those goddamn clocks. They're ten dollar chunks of plastic, and they ruin my sleep.

Anyways, the clock reads 10:32. I groan; the men from the task force will definitely be here by now, which means I have at least fourteen more hours to torture myself by thinking how to apologize to L.

Sighing, I open up the laptop in my bed, expecting to see some hustle and bustle in the "living room". Instead, I see… nothing. Well, nothing besides L's hair, which peeks over the back of the couch. I suppose he's sitting there on his laptop as usual, but it's odd that no one from the task force is here. They're here everyday, even on holidays, so their absence is rather confusing. Still, I'm unsure of whether I should go to see L now when the task force could appear at any moment.

10:35. I frown and push myself from the bed, as there's no way I'm going to sit here when I could relieving my mind of this apology. My wet bangs stick to my forehead and dangle in front of my eyes, and drops of water stick to my face. I wipe my face with my sleeve, but my damp hair only leaves more water on my face. It's really no use; I'll look like shit no matter how much I try to clean up. Looking the way I always do and trying to get people to take you seriously is an impossible combination, and being soaked doesn't help at all.

It bothers me that, once again, I'm having to remind myself that L of all people has no right to judge me based off of my physical appearance. I shouldn't care what he thinks, but I do. I shouldn't care if he can tell I just got out of the shower, or if he notices that I'm a sloppy mess. But I do. I shouldn't care about anything he says about me… and yet I never fail to pay close attention when he takes the time to speak to me. It's all wrong.

I just manage to push back my anxiety and leave my room, which is directly connected to what I have come to refer to as the living room. It's the largest room on the floor, and besides the bathrooms, it's the only room the men from the task force have ever seen. L is in this particular room almost 24/7, staring at one of the 9 monitors that are scattered around the room. It could almost be comfortable, with all its plush sofas and loveseats, but because of the work that takes place here, it really isn't.

My eyes shoot across the room left and right, and there truly is no one here besides L, who has turned his head to about 145 degrees to peer at me around his black hair.

"Um," I say. Great start. "I just wanted to… apologize," I add, pulling myself together and resisting the urge to start biting my nails.

"Apologize for what?" says L, and I immediately notice that he's not keeping up with his monotone. He sounds almost confused, if anything.

"For falling on your lap yesterday? And not being able to walk up the stairs," I answer, more obviously confused than he is.

"Ah," he says, turning back to his monitors. "Yes, that. It's all right; I assume you don't get sick often?"

"Er, no," I state, feeling yet more confused. 'Yes, that…' He makes it sound as if I did something else. Or as if he was expecting for me to apologize for something else. "Where is everyone, anyways?"

"Mmm." L suddenly looks up and turns around on the spot, not breaking his crouch but still making contact with me. "We've arrested the Second Kira."

"What? Really?" I moan. So that's it. He was expecting me to apologize for not being able to pay any attention to the investigation last night or potentially distracting him from it… because something big happened. "Who is it?" My voice is suddenly piqued with interest now that I've recovered from my bout of shame.

"See for yourself," answers L, beckoning me to his side. I walk behind the couch and stare over his shoulder at the monitor he's been paying so much attention to. The page is littered with bits and pieces of information on a person. There are notes on criminal record, medical history, occupation… everything. I direct my eyes to the picture in the top-left corner and my eyes widen.  
"What? Misa Amane?"

"I take it you're a fan of hers?" says L, and I can tell that he's grinning. Some people don't appreciate it, but smiling gives your voice a unique quality that is impossible to attain in other ways.

"No! No, I've just… I met her a while ago. I never would have expected that she'd be capable of acting as Kira," comes my shocked murmur. I do, of course, know that each person on this Earth is capable of murder. Still, someone as bubbly and seemingly naive as Misa Amane…

"You met her? When was that, Leila?" says L, still focused on the monitor.

"I met her when I was shopping," I answered. "It was before my first date with Light and I was looking for an outfit. Misa saw me and picked an outfit for me. She was quite pushy," I answer, frowning at the memory. "And very talkative."

"She isn't talking much now," L said, his smile gone. "She refuses to reveal her method of killing."

"You say she's the Second Kira, but what led you to that conclusion? Was it the DNA on the packages?" I change the subject slightly, and hope that wasn't the only evidence. She could have been used to pack and send the tapes as opposed to actually making them herself. Something like that is not solid enough evidence to accuse Misa of being the Second Kira, much less to state with certainty that she is the Second Kira's true identity.

"The DNA samples found on the tapes and envelopes did not match…" explains L, who now sounds extremely pleased. "… but there was pollen found on the adhesive of the envelopes that matched the pollen produced by plants growing just outside her home. Those plants are very rare in the Kanto region, so it wasn't at all difficult to link the tapes to her. And that's not to mention the ticket stub found on her desk." He picks up a doughnut from a box to his left, and a moment later, speaks through a mouthful. "It was from a ticket to Nagano, from the day that the Second Kira sent a tape from Nagano. Just this morning, we received footage from the Nagano train station proving her presence there." I hear him swallow, and I know he's smiling again when he adds, "As if that wasn't enough evidence to prove that she is the Second Kira, we were also able to trace her credit card records. She purchased several drinks throughout the day on May 22nd, and all of them were from the same place… the Note Blue at Aoyama."

I feel a devilish grin light up my face; it seems I was finally able to do something useful after all. "I suppose that trip was worth the while, then," I declare cheerfully, apology forgotten.

"It would seem so." L takes another bite of his doughnut. "Would you be willing to assist in searching her apartment? I expect you will be more comfortable being thorough, since you yourself are a woman."

"Thanks for noticing," I respond, snorting. My good mood is not going to be ruined, even by such a brash request. "Of course I'll help." If Misa really is the Second Kira, I have no qualms with searching her apartment. Besides, the last thing I want is to turn down the opportunity to be helpful again.

"Watari will take you there now, then," L says, sounding far more satisfied than he already did. "You'll have all day. And Leila?"

"Yes?" I'm rather taken aback.

"You may want to dry off more thoroughly before you leave." I can hear the impish smirk in his voice. "Your hair has left me rather… soaked." I look down and swallow. Sure enough, water has dripped down from my hair, to my chin, and onto L's hunched back. His white T-shirt sticks to his skin, which I can see through the translucent material.

"Er, yes," I agree, and make a beeline for my room, and a towel.

* * *

Misa's apartment is small, but befitting of her Goth-Lol style. Or it seems so to me, anyways. Her walls are lined with posters of celebrity idols, and an occasional article about Misa or a picture in which she was modeling is pinned to the wall. That's about all that is normal about her room, though. She appears to be very into the occult, and this is based off of the objects that look rather like voodoo dolls sitting on her shelves. Everything is painted black, and curtains hangs around a silver cross pinned to the walls. Other dolls, ugly things with random, unprofessional stitching, sit on every shelf, desk, and on areas of the floor. Two models of human skulls sit on her shelf, their empty sockets staring out into the room. Next to her nightstand lays a bald mannequin, which is knocked in its side.

I shake my head and pull my mind from the decor, which is less than welcoming. If I didn't expect Misa to be the Second Kira, I also didn't expect her room to look this way. Still, there are more important things to focus on. L told me that the search through her apartment was rather brief and he expected me to find something of significance. I don't think I could take his reprimanding look and scolding words if I didn't manage just that.

I start in her bedroom. Of course, digging around in her underwear drawer feels rather invasive, but it seems like just the place for someone like Misa to hide something. Instead, I find nothing but piles of black, lacy underwear on the top of the piles, and slut underwear beneath that. I unwrap each pair of knee socks and search for something inside of them. Nothing. The bed had already been stripped of the sheets, but I check under the mattress. Nothing. There are no loose floorboards or hollow places in the wall, although I doubt Misa would be smart enough to hide anything in those places anyways. There's nothing under the bed, or hidden in her piles of occult nonsense. I rifle through her cosmetics. Nothing.

Instead, I find something in a place so obvious, it puts me to shame.

I take each book of the shelf. Most of the "books" are magazines. Misa is truly lacking in real literature. I flip through each magazine, but all there is to look at is models dressed in skimpy clothing and the occasional picture of Misa. Finally, I pick up a magazine that is cut in half, the long way - "hot dog style", so to speak. The next few magazines are exactly the same, and behind them is one tape, and some of the cheapest recording equipment I've ever seen. I snort with laughter; it's one of the worst hiding places I've ever seen.

I'm about to exit her room when I remember one place I haven't searched, because it seemed far too obvious. The camera equipment in my bag weighs me down, reminding me that Misa hid plenty of things in an obvious place.

I walk back to her desk, which is made of a lovely dark and polished wood, and pull out the chair. There's a drawer, a rather small one, in the center of her desk, that's just above where my legs would be if I sat in the chair. I open the drawer slowly and gingerly, as if I think something dangerous is going to pop out. When the drawer is completely open, I peek inside, and my eyes find themselves placed on a black notebook. The cover is tattered, and I'm hesitant to touch it. Really, it isn't a big deal, but I silently wonder why someone would place a notebook where most people put all their scrap paper, pens, and pencils. I pick the notebook up and hold it inches from my face. The cover is made from some kind of fabric, and it's completely odorless. I push the drawer back in and sit down in the desk chair, humming with discontent as I open the notebook.

On the very first page, the very first line, something catches my eye. There's a name written in an untidy scrawl.

_Kazuhiko Hibimi, heart attack April 18 6:00PM_

I swallow and read through some more names.

Names of people I know to be dead.

The name of an old task force member especially catches my eye. I never met Ukita, but I've heard plenty about him He was Aizawa's friend, and part of the reason that Aizawa hasn't walked out of the case yet.

I shove the book into my bag and leave her room.

Hours later, I leave her apartment.

* * *

L and the other men from my task force are busy enough talking that they don't notice me walk in. The room is loud, and the men are animatedly discussing the recent advancement in the case, but the voices stop when I whip my bag from my shoulder and set it on the coffee table. I feel all their eyes on me, and I suddenly feel the need to go hide. They're all expecting something - L must have told them that he made me, a civilian, do a policeman's job. That he made - no, allowed me to search Misa's apartment.

"I, um, I found the recording equipment." I silently curse myself. Every sentence I've said in front of L today has had a word parasite in it ("um", "er", "erm"... so on and so forth).

"This is further proof that Misa Amane is the Second Kira," declares Aizawa, furrowing his brow as he watches me take said equipment out of the bag. I never actually touched them with my bare hands, and they're packed in a separate bag just as I was instructed.

"Wow, you've been working really hard, Leila, er, Miss Hill!" Matuda exclaims brightly, his animated voice causing me to dub my face with a boyish grin that none of the men can see from this angle. As annoying as Matsuda can be sometimes, I can't help but enjoy his presence. I don't think the other men, L included, give him enough credit. He certainly wants to help and I'm sure he would, given the chance.

"Thanks, Matsu," I say, dropping all formalities then and there and inwardly laughing at the pet name I've been itching to call him. "It's nice to hear someone appreciates me."

"You should know that we all appreciate your hard work, Miss Hill," says the solemn voice of Mr. Yagami. I have come to think of him as a truly good man, and although I'm no more attached to him than anyone else, a compliment from him still makes me burn with pride.

I hear Mogi murmur his assent, and I hear the sound of something creaking; I quickly realize that it's the sound of L moving from his spot on the couch. In less than twenty seconds, I can _feel _him leaning over me as I reach into my bag for the second time. Still, when he speaks it gives me a start.

"Did you find anything else, Leila?" L asks in his lovely baritone, and my eyes widen when I realize that he's called me by my first name. I swallow hard and touch the cover of the notebook with my fingernails.

"Yes," I acknowledge smoothly. My fingers grip the notebook by the top and I pull it out of the bag. I turn to my left, where L is, to say something, and end up stumbling backwards when I realize that he is not looking at the notebook, but at me.

I hate it when he does that. I'm not afraid of L attacking me or anything, and the very idea is ridiculous. Still, the man is nearly as tall as Light _hunched over_, and probably even taller when he's standing up straight. With his soul searching eyes and strong physique, he is a rather intimidating person. Especially when you aren't aware of just… how… close he is.

"Er, sorry. You startled me a little," I mutter, scratching my head with one hand and holding out the notebook with another. I suppose the fact that I've finally made it obvious that I really do have something to show gets his attention, because his gaze on me is finally broken. L takes the notebook with two fingers and slouches back to the couch, and all of us, the members of the task force, gather around him.

"Hm," he hums, staring at the plain cover for a moment before opening it. It takes less than a second for a voice to ring out.

"That's Ukita name," says Aizawa. He's not shouting, but his voice is loud enough that it seems to echo. It sounds almost dangerous, and it's full of anger.

"Yes," agrees L, finally speaking. "It also contains the names and times of death of the reporters that were killed, and the two policemen murdered by the Second Kira when her first message was aired."

I watch him stare at the book for a solid five minutes before he sets it beside him.

"Why would Amane keep such careful track of her murders?" Mr. Yagami questions, sounding rather confused. "She must have known how bad it would look if her home was ever searched."

"I'm not certain," L answers, "but this is more evidence in our favor."

"Sorry I wasn't able to find anything more important in her home," I mumble finally, breaking the silence that grew uncomfortable only seconds after L's proclamation. "Is it possible that she didn't actually use a tool to kill? That she could kill simply by thinking?"

"Yes," L answers quickly. "That's what seems most likely. It's hard to imagine a material tool that has the ability to kill without the user being present… but there is plenty of significance to what you've found. Thank you, Leila."

Shit, these men are all blowing up my ego today. "Thanks," I say, and the blush that I've been holding back since I first walked in the room finally spreads across my face. _That was rather ill timed._

"Uh, is Light coming around tonight?" I gasp quickly. "If he is, i should probably -"

"No," L informs me. "His presence in Aoyama while the Second Kira truly was there combined with the odd behavior you mentioned has heightened my suspicions of him. He's now our number one suspect, and will probably be brought in for questioning soon."

I nod, feeling doubly uncomfortable now that it is obvious that I was looking for a reason to leave.

"Has Misa talked yet?" I ask.

Mr. Yagami shakes his head discontentedly, and the other men look greatly uncomfortable, I raise my eyebrows in question, but before Mr. Yagami has a chance to say anything, L cuts in.

"I understand the you are all upset about Misa Amane's current condition, but we have proof that she is the Second Kira. Extracting answers from her could lead to the conclusion of this case, and that is the most important thing right now." His voice is taut and sounds dangerous, so I don't ask anything else. But… her condition? Condition? What's that supposed to mean?

"I'm fine with her condition," says Aizawa, his voice still reverberating with something halfway between grief and anger. "As long as we can end this case. This could save lives," he finishes, glancing at the solemn faces of the other men. I wonder if he really thinks that, or if he's angry enough that Misa Amane truly did kill Ukita that he feels she deserves to be in her "current condition".

Still, I have to agree. I'm not sure what state Misa is in but she's a murderer. Someone who has taken human life shouldn't assume that they'll always be allowed to live in comfort. Besides, God only knows what information Misa could give us about Kira. She has the potential to be the person that ends this case. I allow a smile, not my usual grin but a real smile, to grace my lips for a short moment.

"You can all go if you want," L says, turning to look at Aizawa. Those two never agree, and I'm sure L is shocked even if he doesn't look it. "We're only waiting for Misa to speak right now and I highly doubt that she will do so after a day of confinement. She's very strong-willed."

Oh. I see. L is using rather disagreeable methods to persuade Misa to speak. Still, I can't say I feel that's wrong. Misa is, after all, the Second Kira.

I suppose that means I'm not what a human should be, but I can't say I really care about that, either.

"I expect the wife'll glad to see me at home on time for once," grunts Aizawa, clearly eager to leave here.

Mogi nods and it's easy to see that he's ready to head home as well; although he doesn't say it, he looks rather exhausted.

"Thank you, Ryuzaki," says Mr. Yagami with a nod of his head. "I haven't been able to spend much time with my family lately."

I see L's head bob up and down, and I realize that only Matsuda hasn't spoken.

"Matsu, aren't you going to head home soon?" I ask, tilting my head. Of course he doesn't. Matsuda must feel completely useless since he's treated like an errand boy all the time. I'm sure that he thinks if he's here alone with L and me, he'll actually be put to work.

"Oh, uh," he sputters, flushing. "...d-do you two need the ti -"

"No," I cut in quickly. "I just thought you must be tired after working so hard." Emphasis on _working so hard_. Matsuda thinks he's useless and not working hard enough, and that's why he doesn't want to leave. But if he thinks someone has noticed his hard work, it will boost his self-esteem and he won't feel as bad about wanting to go. It's one oif the many things I've learned after years of manipulating people.

His flush deepens. "O-oh, yeah! I guess I'll go home, then." _Bingo, _I think, grinning to myself.

Truth be told, it takes a few minutes before everyone actually clears out. It's not as if I'm in a rush. Really, the only reason I convinced Matsuda to go was because I could tell that L wanted them all gone. Why else would he dismiss everyone at seven o'clock? Even if L thought that Misa wouldn't talk, he would consider even the smallest possibility that she would and have everyone stay. Whatever his reasons are, convincing Matsuda myself is probably better than what L would have done.

When Matsuda leaves, he flashes me a smile of appreciation, and I wonder how he ended up working with the police. He seems almost too friendly.

This leaves me alone in the room with L, who remains basically silent. I hear the occasional click of his trackpad or the clanging of his fingers against the keyboard, and I take his silence as a hint that he wants me gone as well. I make my way to my room and close the door behind me, then take a minute to stare at the knob like it's done something wrong.

The doorknob turns.

"I didn't ask you to leave," L announces once his grey eyes meet mine, his voice projecting as if he was speaking to a crowd.

"No, you didn't, but it was implied," I reply sharply.

"I wasn't trying to imply that," he insists. There's a moment of silence before he asks, "Would you like to see Misa?"

"Huh?" I'm rather confused. If the others already know how she is right now, then L had no real reason to send them home. Unless showing me what Misa's "current condition" is isn't his true purpose, I'm afraid that L's cognitive skills may be failing him.

He ignores me and turns, walking to one of the large TV monitors mounted on the walls. "I have a favor to ask of you once you've seen her." A favor? That may be his reason. Still, if the favor is sketchy enough that he didn't want to ask it in front of the task force…

L turns on the monitor and pulls his cell out of his pocket. He hits one of the buttons and within seconds, he's speaking into. "Watari, please give me a visual on Amane."

Seconds later, an image appears on the monitor.

Seconds later, I blink, thinking that the image isn't real.

Seconds later, my voice a few octaves higher than usual, squeaks out of my throat. "What-the-fuck-is-that?"

Seconds later, L has no answer.

Seconds later, L's phone crashes to the ground. I watch the pieces scatter across the floor because I can't look at the screen anymore.

Seconds later, _I _have an answer. It squeezes out of my throat and forces itself from my lips, and I realize I haven't been breathing. It comes out as a question. "It's a shinigami? You can see it?"

I hear nothing, so I look at L and see that his head is nodding slowly. His fingers are still pinched, like he's still holding his phone, the same phone that lays in pieces, some over here, some over there, some everywhere.

"Ryuzaki? Ryuzaki, are you okay?" I ask, although I'm feeling less than okay myself.

"I knew it made sense, but I didn't think…" So quiet, I can barely hear him. So panicked, that what I do hear is full of fear. "... didn't think it would ever be… true…"

The white, bony creature that looms over Misa Amane - not that I'm really looking at Misa Amane - is truly a sight to behold. Its entire body appears to be made of polished, whitened bones, some of them carved or stretched into strange organic shapes. Its arms seem to me made of human vertebrae, and its head is a skull, to small in comparison to its body, with full purple lips and a single yellow, cat-like eye. If there's another one, it's covered with the bandage wound around its head. Where hair would be on a human, it looks like someone dumped a pile of large pale purple and white earthworms. The creature - the shinigami - wears something similar to earrings that must hang from ears I can't see.

Its single eye stares at Misa, whose body is motionless.

_We can confirm each other when we meet by showing our shinigami._

_30th We confirmed our shinigami at the Giants game at the Toyo Dome._

Shinigami.

Who knew… it wasn't code after all.

I watch L's hand reach up to turn off the monitor, and then fall back to his side. I watch him walk back to his original spot of the couch, and I follow him there, climbing over the back so I can collapse in a heap. L, on the other hand, has the common decency to walk around, and he sits next to where my body leans into the back of the couch cushion. I watch him sink into his regular slouch, and pull all the calmness, the normalcy that he can manage, into mind.

"Do you think there are shinigami killing for the Kiras?" he questions, his voice shaky, but still without expression of emotion. A finger finds its way to its mouth and he shakes his head. "No… shinigami are gods, or demons, at least, and the idea that one, much less two of them at the same time, would kill at a lesser being's every whim. It's more likely - I'd say 87% - that the shinigami gave the Kiras their weapon…"

I nod my head in silent agreement and pull myself into a sitting position. "None of the mythology has a definite killing tool linked to shinigami," I grouch, crossing my arms defensively. "But a majority of it does link a weapon of some kind to the shinigami's killing power, so it seems likely that it's a material weapon and not just thought… if, of course, the mythology is at all accurate." L turns to stare at me, and I return in, my breathing shaky. "_What?_"

"The mythology…?"

"Huh?... Oh. After we got all of those messages from the Seco - from Misa mentioning shinigami, I decided to research them. All of the research that went into how a shinigami killed, or its possessions, mentioned a material weapon."

"That shinigami did not seem to be carrying a material weapon."

"No, it didn't… but the only overtly suspicious thing I found at Misa's house was…"

"... the notebook."

"Are you saying the notebook is the weapon?" I ask, my voice shaky, and pick up the notebook from the counter.

"I'm saying that it is a possibility."

"Is there any way we could prove that? I suppose we could just ask Misa… if the notebook is the weapon she'll probably react in some way."

"Yes, that does seem likely," he answers simply, and moves to a different set of monitors in the room. Her turns them on, and since L's phone isn't alive for him to have told Watari to cancel the visual, we can still see Misa and the shinigami. I watch L hit a switch and stand in complete silence before speaking. "Miss Amane?"

_If the notebook isn't the murder weapon, this will ruin everything and L will end up looking stupid. This better go well..._

"W-What do you want?" she cries, tears running down her face.

"Miss Amane, we recently found your weapon in your apartment. The notebook?"

I watch every muscle in the girl's body tense, and the shinigami glares into the camera. _Oh no… I think it knows that it's visible to us now._

"N-Notebook? I don't know about... about a notebook." _Nice try, Misa._

"I'm afraid your initial reaction was enough to tell the truth of the situation. How does it work, Miss Amane? Whether or not you give us this information willingly, know that we will retrieve it from you."

I watch pure panic melt into her beautiful features. The tears seem to multiply until rivers of them flow down her face. her sobs echo through the room, and she mutters unintelligible words in a broken voice. I see the shinigami's full lips moving, but I can't quite hear anything. I watch Misa's body shake violently, and think to myself that she won't say anything. She's so naive that she thinks living through extensive torture until she confesses to what we already know is true will be better than death, or a life sentence.

It is at that moment, at that thought, that L and I watch the girl do something beyond the reaches of idiocy. It proves to us that the shinigami was not the result of laced drinks, and that the notebook I hold so tightly in my grasp is indeed used to take human life. It proves that she, Misa Amane, is a murderer.

"Rem!" she screeches, and the shinigami looks shocked. I'm sure that if she could talk, or if she was willing to, she would be telling Misa to pipe down. "The notebook! I-I give up my possession of the notebook!"

And with that, the shinigami strokes Amane's sweaty forehead and disappears as the girl slumped into her restraints.

_I'm holding a murder weapon._

* * *

**This chapter was fun to write! I hope you all liked it.**

**I had a lot of trouble writing the beginning of the chapter, but after that, everything came along pretty smoothly. Writing about Leila's interaction with the task force was fun because the task force is literally great! xD**

**Anyways, I'm going to respond to reviewers since chapter 10.**

**Wildfiredreams - Thanks, I really appreciate it. As promised, the reason why Misa couldn't see that Light was Kira was super cheesy; Misa needed to see Lights face, of at least part of it, and she couldn't because he was being kissed. honestly, I did that to poke fun at Misa's charachter because she falls in love with Light in the canon. I'm so mean ; n ; And, regarding your review to chapter twelve, thanks again. Also, you're way better at explaining my own character's immune system than me, so... everyone should read Wildfire's review instead of my last author's note c; Seriously though, thanks for all the support. I really appreciate it.**

**Wavywavy - Yeah, I feel like Misa's introduction can be really hard to write, especially since she's a character that has the potential to change the plot so much. The time that I chose to introduce Misa and the actions she took further on in this chapter; well, you can imagine that's why this story will be veering so far off from the canon now. To be honest, this took a huge leap of faith, and it's all because of Misa's potential to ruin things. Here's to hoping the leap of faith pays off? And as for 5500 words... lol. I lied so much! I haven't been able to cut down from 6200+ words :(  
**

**MazuChi - Thanks, I really appreciate it!**


	14. Audience

"What the hell just happened?" I gasp. "What does she mean by 'I give up my possession of the notebook'? It isn't even within her grasp right now!"

"Where did the shinigami go?" L wonders thoughtfully. He appears to be calm at first glance, but when I look closer I notice that his muscles are shaking erratically, and he's biting his thumb so hard that a drop of blood is slowly flowing down his wrist.

"Stop doing that," I say coldly, smacking his wrist just hard enough to push his hand from his face. Usually, even if I wasn't acting, I'd be more polite, but I'm really not in the mood for any more shit. I have a feeling that's exactly what he'd give me if I asked politely for him to "please remove your thumb from your mouth so you don't chew a hole in it." His head turns to me in a quick movement, and for a minute I feel a glare that causes me to feel uncertain of my safety. His look quickly softens, though, and he turns away. "Should the task force be here for this?" I ask finally.

"They should, but I doubt they'd all be here until about an hour from now. There is no point in asking them to come back right now," L mutters, chewing on the fingers of his left hand now, though fortunately not with enough force to draw blood.

"Right," I answer. Misa has apparently fallen asleep, and now that the shinigami isn't there, I finally notice the human. She's wearing a straightjacket, and placed in something that looks like a metal brace. Her eyes are covered with a metal blindfold, which her face is leaned into. I imagine it'll leave rather uncomfortable impressions on her cheeks when she wakes race across her body, including some that go outwards from her check and one that's pulled between her legs. Misa's feet are shackled, and I think how terribly uncomfortable she must feel right now. She's completely immobile and I doubt there's a muscle in her body that she can move more than a quarter inch. _She's Kira. It's regrettable that another human has to be in this condition, but… let the punishment fit the crime._

It takes twelve minutes of standing and staring at the monitor for me to finally ask if I could pull on of the chairs over.

It takes five for the two of us to get the sofa.

L is crouching comfortably on the far right of the couch. I admire how his back makes a perfect horizontal line when he leans over until I realize how sore his shoulders and back must be from hunching over like that. His muscles are probably all in knots. I recall him telling me that sitting in that way brought up his deductive abilities by forty percent. If I wasn't in such a mood, I might laugh about it, but I suppose forty percent must be worth it if you're the world's greatest detective.

My eyes drift back to the screen, but nothing is happening. I'm so bored that sleep is truly a temptation. It's damaging to my pride, but I don't have L's freakish energy and there's no way I can stay up much longer than this.

"I know this is important, but I need sleep," I proclaim finally; a glance at on of the ugly digital clocks had revealed that it was past three in the morning. When I look over at L, I feel a moment's pure shock. His eyelids are halfway closed over his eyes, which are rolled up. He's half asleep… L is human after all. At the sound of my voice, his eyes shoot open and I can see the grey of his irises shooting around at random before focusing on me.

"Ooooookay," he answers, his voice transitioning from groggy to alert in a single word.

"You haven't really had much sugar today," I point out, yawning. "D'you want a coffee before I go to bed?" I'm walking towards the kitchen ette already; I know he says yes even though I can't hear him.

In the time it takes for the coffee to brew, I drift off twice. The sound of the coffeemaker is the only thing that keeps me awake, since it's inconsistent and rather disruptive. That ends up being a good thing since I am awake when the coffee finishes brewing and when I pour it into a mug, it's still hot. I grab the box full of sugar cubes next to the teabags and bring it along with the mug to L. There's no coffee table so I have to balance the mug and box on the arm of the couch in a rather precarious manner.

I can feel that same, never-ending stare on my back as I walk away without a word.

* * *

Unfortunately, my body tells me that I've had very little sleep when I wake up in the morning. It's probably about six, which would put me at less than three hours. The blankets are pulled over my head, leaving me in a very hot but very dark pocket of air. I roll over and pull myself into a fetal position. I can probably get one extra hour of rest before L barges in and demands that I get up.

I feel my sheets getting twisted around my limbs and growl in frustration. It's uncomfortable and it means that I'll have to crawl out of my cocoon before I've had a chance to fully metamorphose. I try to release my arm underneath the blankets and manage to do so, although it feels as though I've lost everything below my elbow. Clearly that is not a good idea. I really will have to get out from under all of these blankets.

I take a quick assessment of my current position and determine that, however uncomfortable I am, it's worth the extra sleep. I dig my head into my pillow and close my eyes.

It seems as if the warmth will lull me back to an at least partial sleep, but my eyes shoot back open. I feel so uncomfortable, and it's not just because I'm twisted up like a French pretzel. The same feeling that I always have when I'm acting has settled in my stomach. I theorize that I had a dream that brought the feeling and I just can't remember it. After all, the only time I get that feeling, the one I've learned to despise over the years, is when I'm with Light or at To-Oh.

It feels unsafe.

I know, suddenly, that there is someone in my room. Someone who does not belong here and never will. I know that it isn't L. Although he certainly doesn't belong in my bedroom when I'm trying to sleep, he doesn't give me this particular feeling.

I keep my eyes closed and begin the slow process of kicking off my covers. After a minute or so, I feel some of them sliding from the foot of the bed, and the rest of the are now loose enough for me to wriggle out of them. Even as I sit up, I have to peel the thin sheets from my skin. My hands reach up to my my eyes and rub them gently, allowing me to open my eyes. Enough light filters in that my vision is temporarily blurred, and I hold my arms over my head to stretch. I begin to lean my head back to yawn in a childish gesture, but I glimpse something strange out of the corner of my eyes. I squint, clearing my vision a little.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" I let out the most high pitched, terrorized shriek that I have ever heard. I never imagined that _I _would be the one letting loose such a scream. To be honest, I never thought I would hear something so intense. "Holy mother of f -"

My voice is interrupted by the sound of my door hitting the wall with a rather lot of force and Aizawa's voice. "What the hell's that thing doing in here?"

"I don't know," I gasp, falling out of my bed and landing in a heap on some of my covers. I scoot backwards until I bump into the wall. "I woke up and it was…" Luckily, I'm too terrified to wonder why Aizawa of all people is in my room, or why he's at HQ so early, or how he knows about the shinigami. Instead, adrenaline kicks in and I jump to my feet. My back is pressed against the wall and it seems to project the erratic beating of my heart. I feel my feet slide across the carpet, as if they possess a will of their own, until I'm slipping through the door and walking backwards into the most important part of headquarters. It's comforting to take in the monitors stacked up against the walls until I notice a shot of Misa. She's still restrained, but it takes me a mere two seconds to remember that where the shinigami was, all I can see is the blank, faded wall behind her.

"W-what happened, Leila?" shouts Matsuda, and I can hear his heavy footfalls as he runs to my side. _Holy shit, Matsuda. I fucking love you right now._

"The shinigami is in my room!" I cry, turning to Matsuda, who is standing to my right. I'm so hysteric that I know I appear to be unintelligent, but at the moment, the thought slips through my mind as if it were putty.

"So the - the shinigami thing… it's real?" Matsuda asks, sounding shaken.

"If both Ryuzaki and Miss Hill have mentioned the existence of a shinigami, then it's true," says the kind but no-nonsense voice of Mr. Yagami. He seems to be under a lot of stress, although my panicked mind can't quite pinpoint the reasons.

Aizawa is back in the room and trying to ward off the shinigami, which is heading steadily towards me. I feel as if I'm going to vomit, but I'm suddenly so drained of energy that I've lost the ability to move my legs.

"Don't worry about it, Aizawa," says L, and it bothers me how happy I am to hear his monotone, the comfortable baritone that has grown appealing to me. The voice of… a friend? I don't know. I've never experienced true friendship, and it's really hard for me to even imagine, but I'm not sure what else to think.

This stupid shinigami thing is really tearing me apart.

"What do you mean, 'don't worry about it'?" snaps Aizawa, who is outraged on my behalf.

"I daresay that if the shinigami's goal was to kill Miss Hill, she would be long dead by now." This prediction, of course, is alarming, although it does make since. I cast a single glance to where the shinigami was, and notice Aizawa standing alone, his eyes pinpointed on something to my left. I'd say that Matsuda was doing something stupid, but Matsuda's on my right. I don't even look to confirm; the shinigami is right next to me.

"Uh, what do you want from Leila?" asks Matsuda, who I keep my eyes on. He looks pretty badass, the way he's handling all this, until I see a drop of sweat roll down his face. He's every bit as terrified as I am, but he's not a coward. He's… taking care… of… _me_. Just like Aizawa was. I've not been particularly kind to either of them, so is it possible that I'm simply in good company? I did nothing to earn this.

I hear the sound of the shinigami breathing. It's disgusting. I am distinctly reminded of the wheezing of a person who is dying. "The human girl now has possession of the Death Note."

"Excuse me?" I spit, finally managing to open my mouth. My words are quiet, but they fill the whole room with venom.

"The Death Note is the killing tool of a shinigami," explains the bony creature, its single eye meeting mine. Its voice is hesitant and its lips only open slightly. That, along with the low volume of its voice, suggests that it does not want to tell me this, but it has to. "If you write a name in the notebook while visualizing that person's face, they will die."

"I don't have possession of it," I say stubbornly. "I don't have it right now." As a matter of fact, it's perched in front of L on the coffee table.

Much to my surprise, it's L that responds. "Perhaps it's because _you _were holding the notebook when Miss Amane lost possession of it."

The shinigami nods its silent agreement.

"Are you required to follow the owner of the Death Note?" Hm. L has become my voice.

"Yes," murmurs the shinigami. I narrow my eyes; she's just provided us with even more evidence that her previous charge was acting as the Second Kira.

But what does this mean for me? I'll have no privacy with this thing following me around and I doubt I'll be able to sleep. Furthermore, what if the task force no longer trusts me because I possess the Death Note? It's completely unreasonable, but it's hard to believe that no one on the task force will theorize that this was staged.

The silence in the room in unsettling, and I sink onto the floor, my body falling naturally into a childish criss-cross applesauce position. It's a display of weakness, and I seem to be showing a lot of those today. I lean over until my nose touches my crossed calves, and I hold my arms over my head. I can't fool myself into thinking I've got any real protection, though. I swallow the vomit building into my gut, simply because I don't feel the need to embarrass myself further.

"Leila, come sit across from me," L instructs from across the room. He still hasn't even bothered to look up at me, and here he has the nerve to instruct me around. But I know where it comes from. Being L must give him a massive ego, and he knows that I have to do what he says. It's really not an option.

I drag myself up on two feet and take thirty slow steps to the couch across from L. I notice that the minute I'm in his peripheral vision, his eyes follow me… or the shinigami. That jackass just wants to question the shinigami… I daresay the next few days will be difficult.

* * *

**-3rd Person POV-**

* * *

Rem is not truly interested in this human girl. Her ownership of the Death Note is purely coincidental, and it's unlikely that it will lengthen Misa's lifespan in any way. In fact, Rem is aware that this particular human will likely hurt Misa's chances of a long life. The lack of absolute evidence is all that keeps Rem from acting on her decisions right away and killing the Death Note's new owner.

She knew the minute she appeared in the hotel that the situation was not for the best. The image of a shackled Misa on the screens littering the walls revealed that her captors were telling the truth; they really did have the notebook.

Lawliet.

Aizawa.

Mogi.

Matsuda.

Yagami.

Grey.

Each of them a threat.

The one called "L Lawliet" is using the notebook's new owner to force Rem into facing him. Lawliet has a hunched body and looked weak and sickly, but his lifespan is long and in reality, he's rather healthy. If Lawliet really is a threat to Misa, and she would die because of his actions, Rem would have to kill him and the others. None of their lifespans are short enough for them to die without affecting Misa.

"You. The white thing," Lawliet snaps at Rem, and she meets his cool stare through his bangs. His dark eyes are unsettling, because they block everything out. Any attempt to learn what he was thinking right now from the look in his eyes would be pointless right now, because they would reject each attempt and reflect it back at Rem. Lawliet's eyes… mirrors into the soul.

But Rem met those eyes. Any way to save Misa's life without giving up her own was something Rem was willing to invest in. Rem knows that, even as a death god, she should not get cocky. She isn't sure who this "L Lawliet" is, besides that he is the 'great detective' L, but she doesn't want to assume that she can outsmart him. In a battle of wits, she can always lose, but he could do nothing to prevent her from threatening him.

"It's Rem," she answers coolly as she hangs over the shoulder of the human, Grey.

"Rem," corrects Lawliet. "If you have to follow the owner of the… the Death Note, and you were following Misa Amane, then she possessed the Death Note. That, along with overwhelming material evidence, proves that she was the Second Kira." Rem frowns and begins to nod, but Lawliet continues. "Misa Amane has given up her possession of the Death Note, but why? What are the consequences of that?"

Rem frowns; she was going to mention this anyway but she does not relish the feeling of being interrogated. "Misa has lost all of her memories regarding the Death Note," she answers slowly, her mind filling with something that can only be described as false hope. "... including her actions as the Second Kira."

"She's still guilty," exclaims a man with a large tuft of hair on his comparatively small head - Aizawa. "Just because she forgot doesn't change her actions!"

"Aizawa," says another one of the men, Yagami. His tone of voice is authoritative without being rude and overbearing.

"Is there no way for her to regain those memories?" Lawliet cuts in, ignoring the background noise.

Rem starts, her single eye narrowed. "No," she lies, knowing that Lawliet is probably planning to restore Misa's memory to extract a confession.

Silence. Mere moments of it, but enough. "That's fine," decides the raven-haired man, his eyes still boring into Rem. "We already have adequate proof of her guilt." A low growl begins to build up in Rem's throat, but she manages to stop it from exiting. She already knew that, and knew that she was going to have to combat it. Besides, Lawliet was likely pointing that out to silence the other men, not to spite her. "Shinigami," he says, directing all attention back to Rem. "Do you know who the original Kira is?"

"No," Rem answers honestly. "Even if I did, I am not allowed to reveal who the owner of the Death Note is."

"And why is that? Did Misa Amane order you to keep this information quiet?"

"No!" Rem answers again, and low hum now present in her voice. "Misa never found the identity of the other Kira, and rules set up by the Old Ma - by the shinigami king prevent me from revealing such information."

"The shinigami king," L mused. "How was Misa Amane planning on identifying Kira in Aoyama, then?"

A minute of silence passes before Rem shakes her head. "I can reveal this information to the owner of the Death Note only." This, too, is true, and Rem doesn't really want them to know anyways. Still, it's likely that Leila will ask and relay the information back.

"Then tell me," says a small voice. It's the voice of the girl that everyone has stopped looking at and paying attention too, even though she's very much present. Leila Grey is slumped on the couch, her elbows poking into her thighs as she holds her head up. "I'm asking."

* * *

**-Normal POV-**

* * *

The need to vomit has been building up in my stomach over the past hour. I stare at the couch cushion between my legs and swallow the foul taste. My face is paling - I don't even have to look into a mirror to know. My body feels cold, dead, and distant, and I feel as if my soul is parting from my body, parting from my dismal situation. I can see where this conversation is heading, and I don't like it at all.

There's too much stress on me right now. How can anyone be expected to handle this?

_The girl leaves the cat's head on the doorstep and its broken, torn body of the animal in a puddle of blood. Intestines are strewn across the sidewalk, and the girl feels relieved. Everything is _not _perfect._

"Shinigami eyes," answers the shinigami above me in a low but clearly feminine voice.

"_It's was you, wasn't it?" a horrified and disgusted Jen says, holding up the crimson-soaked hoodie the girl had buried after the excursion. The room fills with the scent of blood and the girl winces. It really… isn't… perfect. Not anymore._

"Shinigami eyes allow you to see the name and lifespan of a person. I informed Misa that she would not be able to see the lifespan of the human who possesses a Death Note," Rem continues.

_Bruce calls her social worker and the policemen who come to speak with her recommend therapy. She's sure that her social worker will not only recommend the same, but insist on it._

"How does one come to have these 'eyes'?" asks L, clearly thinking back on the Second Kira's message.

"You have to possess a Death Note."

_The girl is right. Within one week, seven short days, she's in another foster home._

"In order to get the eyes, the Death Note's human owner has to make a trade," Rem continues.

_For some people, cutting is a method of self-harm. Other people eventually try to kill themselves. Some people simply live in misery. They don't do anything about it, and it drives them away from people._

"The cost," she drones, "is half of the human's remaining life span."

_For the girl, her self-harm is killing. She kills animals to destroy others' perceptions of her. Their skewed perceptions hurt her just enough to remind her that reality is not what it seems, and that there's always someone or something out to get you._

"You can't ask Leila to make that trade!" shouts an enraged Matsuda.

_She is booted from home to home. They get worse each time._

"I never suggested that, Matsuda," says L in his usual monotone. I find myself doubting him.

_People are disgusted by someone who slaughters pets like that, and leaves the bodies strewn across the owner's property. "It's disgusting!" they say. "Everyone knows that serial killers start out killing animals._

"I wouldn't put that past you, Ryuzaki!" spits Aizawa with disgust.

"Aizawa!" shouts Mr. Yagami, who probably feels a desperate need to bring the level of adversity in the room down to a lesser level.

_The girl knows that she would never hurt a person, but no one will listen to her. no one believes her. And why should they? She may as well be a junkie - she can't go a week without killing something._

"Would you all shut up and let L run his mouth?" I growl, holding two fingers to each temple and biting the inside of my cheeks.

_Rabbits, cats, dogs, snakes. If it's a pet, it fits her MO. The girl knows she has become a total freak, but she likes that it's holding her down to earth. She likes that it reminds her that death and sadness is everywhere no matter how nice her foster home is._

I feel all eyes lock on me, but I'm back to staring at the couch. I need to stop thinking… I need to stop dreaming… I need to wake up… even if reality is too hard to face. I've learned that lesson already.

_Finally, her social worker, or even the whole organization, cracks down on her. She gets put in one last home. She gets one last chance. "Things won't be so easy after this, kid."_

"Is there anything else we should know, shinigami?" L continues as if there had been no interruption.

_She can't kill. And it's killing her._

"I've already told you that there is information I can only reveal to the owner of the Note," Rem explains, sounding annoyed.

_The seemingly constant surveillance at her newest foster home makes it difficult to do anything. Curfew is right after school. The windows have bars installed over them, and there are enough girls in the neighborhood who hate each other that it is impossible to be out at night without getting told on. Besides that, there aren't any pets in this neighborhood. God knows how hard her poor social worker must have had too look for the perfect hellhole like this._

"But… but if Leila asks you -" Matsuda is cut off, probably by the cold glare of someone else in the room.

_It takes a good four months of torture before the girl stops craving the blood. She finds the evil elsewehere - her friends._

"If there's a chance that important information might…" I can hear L muttering, and I know. I know that this conversation is going exactly as I expected it. Why can't I be wrong for once…

_She hardly bothered to learn their names. All she knew was that they were the sort of people she needed to help her keep the past in mind. Some of them are peeping toms, others drug users, other gang members. They're not even friends, really._

"... would probably tell us all that she noticed, but…"

_Finally, one of her friends does something - or tries to do something - unforgivable. Peeping when drunk is a bad idea, and when the girl wakes up to her shirt being peeled off by someone she already had marked as a pervert, she doesn't hesitate to start smashing his head in with a decorative trophy._

"... there's really only one option," L finishes, and looks back in my direction. I begin a silent prayer. This will not happen again. No, no, no…

_Leila Grey loses it. The would-be rapist starts fighting back, but she has a blunt metal object, she's terrified and running off of a shocking amount of adrenaline, and he's drunk. He…_

"Leila." His voice is commanding. I don't want to hear it, and I'm tempted to pull my hands over my ears, like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

… _doesn't survive the encounter. In the end, it's self defense and Leila doesn't get any permanent trouble. But killing a person… damages you. Leila knows she will forever remember the anger she felt as she crushed in the teenager's skull. How dare he do that to her… that had been what she was thinking as the pathetic worm threw his final punch and she felt pain explode across her jaw._

"We will be placing you under constant surveillance."

_Sometimes Leila wonders if that was really self-defense._

_And, so very often, she doubts it._

I was right. Every muscle in my body tightens and I feel my body recoil from him. He's still sitting a good five feet away from me, but I still feel the same anger and disgust I felt towards the drunken idiot that tried to rape me.

"That wasn't what you promised when I moved in here," I say, gritting my teeth. I can feel the black, empty darkness that is the worst of my anger settling in my eyes. My voice sounds horrible from where I stand, far from my body.

"That's ridiculous, Ryuzaki! It was one thing with Kira suspects, but this…"

"This is out of line!"

"Ryuzaki, I'm not sure that this situation calls for…"

The task force members don't exist. Their voices fade into the background until it's just L and I. I have a rather horrible feeling about where this is headed.

"I'm very aware of what you asked when you moved into the hotel with me," he says, not backing down. Of course he'd fight back. "Unfortunately, the agreement we established can't be observed in this situation. I don't believe that you would _purposely _hide anything the shinigami said to you, but it's safer this way. We could learn a lot about Kira from the shinigami and if it won't talk to u -"

"You… fuck you! You're gross," I spit, letting all the venom, all the malice, that I've built up for anyone, from Light, to L, to my adoptive parents, pool into my declaration. Honestly, almost none of it belongs to L because I've only ever suffered minor annoyances or mild irritation from him. "You're such a pervert. And a liar, too."

It's not as if my insults are particularly insulting, but my tone of voice is more than enough to either terrify someone or inspire anger. Either way, I'm not interested in seeing how L reacts. All I know is that, suddenly, the glass decoration sitting at the small table to the left of the couch is rather appealing. As a matter of fact, it's more than appealing. My fingers hunger for it.

My body springs up on its own accord. I can hear L's dull, blank voice, but whatever his words are enter one ear and exit the other without ever registering. I can't really see, either, because black spots cloud my vision. If you ask most people, they'll tell you red is the color of anger. But really, red is the color of fear. Black, pure darkness, is what radiates from the soul of an angry person. I walk away.

All I can think is, _holy shit! this guy is lucky I've learned to control my temper. _I feel my bare feet sliding across the carpet, and I'm so aware of my other senses that I can feel each individual stranding brushing the thick skin on the sole of my feet. I can feel the air growing heavy, putting so much pressure on my skin that I wonder if I'm going to burst outwards. I hear the voices of task force members, two of them shouting at L and at least one whisper-yelling at me to calm down.

My hand has _just _gripped the cold metal of the doorknob when I feel a hand on my wrist. I know whose hand it is without thinking and I spin on the spot.

"Get… the fuck… away… from me," I say, my voice still a normal volume with my hateful tone.

L is not one to take shit from people and I know that. It's why I'm not surprised when he tightens his grip on my wrist and replies with a simple "no".

"No? Why not, then?" I pull my wrist back, hard, but all I manage to do is put painful red blotches on my arm where L's grip has shifted slightly.

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'm being unreasonable?" The volume is riding rather considerably now.

"Yes. You should know that this is important to the investigation. I would have thought -"

"- that it's okay to be a pervert? It's not. Now let go." I pull my wrist as I realize that I'm being dragged back to the couch.

"This is something that we _need _to discuss, Miss Hill. This is very important to the investigation and you are intelligent enough to realize that without my telling you."

He won't let go of me.

I feel my free arm make a sudden movement. My fingers loosen up until my hand forms a small cup, and my arms lift from my sides. I feel a sharp pain in my palm as my cupped hand smacks into L's face.

Obviously, he doesn't expect it, because his face turns slightly and his own free hand lifts to his face. Through the blur that is my vision, I see a red tinge on the right side of his usually colorless face. I feel his grip on my wrist loosen and I jerk it away. He's been gripping it so tightly that he's left a white handprint on my skin.

I doubt that he will retaliate over a first offense, but with that rather lovely, seven inch tall glass sculpture of Aphrodite sitting within my reach, I doubt I'll stop now.

"Someone get me the fuck out of here!" I scream, and feel Matsuda leading me to my room. It's a lucky thing that he likes to avoid trouble, because no one else made a move and I was so close to hurling glass at L's face. I daresay that would have been the end of me.

"U-uh, sorry, Leila," he mutters, looking utterly embarrassed to be in my room. Rem drifts in behind me and I growl with anger. If only she'd kept her mouth shut, if only she hadn't revealed that there _was _confidential information, I wouldn't be in this situation. God forbid she say "I don't know".

Matsuda is still standing there, and I realize why; I'm supposed to be under constant surveillance and no cameras have been installed yet.

"Can you please go?" I mutter. "I'll leave the door open."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea. Are you sure you don't want to come and sit down?" he answers, standing close to the door, as if he wants to run away the minute he gets a chance.

"No." I don't want to be rude to Matsuda, of all people, but I can't go back out there. If I see L, I'll snap. That lying bastard is absolutely screwed if he shows his face within the next few minutes.

"He just wants to solve this case, you know," Matsuda offers, but his words sound empty.

"Please," I snap. "You and I both know he's an asshole, whether he's your boss or not. You get shit from him all the time. I wish I knew how you put up with it."

"I… just want people to be satisfied with me, and I... want to do good things for the world. Being a cop has given me the chance to do that, and working with Ryuzaki has made that change even greater," Matsuda explains slowly, his confidence building up with each word. "I'm not sure if I like Ryuzaki as a person, but it's an honor to work with him."

I have to consider Matsuda's words. They aren't particularly deep or clever, but they're true. The chance of doing something good for the world, especially when you are a seeker of justice, probably doubles when you're around L. At least, that's what I'd thought. But now that I'm a victim, so to speak, I have to reconsider.

Are L's methods really worth the outcome? God knows how many innocent people he's had bugged. Besides that, he doesn't even seem to realize how perverted it is to bug a room that a girl is living in. I mean, he may as well move into the room with me. Not to mention following me to the restrooms. We could even shower together.

I feel a twisted smile light up my face. This is bringing back awful memories, and I can't bear the emotions, once lost, that are fresh in my mind.

The worst thing I feel right now is the terror. I remember waking up in my foster home and finding that drunk dweeb leaning over me. I remember my shirt being almost all the way off, and my bra being unclasped but still half on because of the straps. My pants were already down, and while one of his cold, shaky hands was working on finishing up with my shirt, the other was slipping into my panties. I had never felt more scared in my life. The combination of humiliation and nightmarish fear was worse than anything I could have ever felt. I was being stripped naked by a guy I hardly knew but called my friend, and I knew exactly what he would have been doing to me if I'd somehow managed to sleep through it.

I suppose it's a lucky thing that _I _wasn't drunk that night.

The bloodlust came as a result of the terror. It was a superhuman strength, and more power than I have ever felt in my body before. With all of that energy, and all of that terror, I knew that being beaten wasn't an option. I did whatever I could to avoid that, and unfortunately, I went too far. Luckily, though, Matsuda's presence is sort of calming, and it's chased away the bloodlust.

I sit on my bed and stare at the wall, letting every muscle in my body loosen. I release my hold over my body and let myself slump. I need to relax. It doesn't matter what I do. This will end the same way: with a perverted egomaniac watching everything I do 24/7.

I knew he was nosy when he started asking about my history.

It's a lucky thing I not-so-legally changed my name and got rid of whatever personal information I could. I don't want to imagine what L would be like if he knew anything about the person I was only a couple of years ago.

As it is, he's causing me to regress. I feel like my sixteen-year-old personality is being locked away in my nineteen-year-old body. Needless to say, that's rather awful. Regression is one of the worst ways to block stress, and thanks to L, that's exactly what mental state I'm in right now.

I wonder how long it will take for me to feel calm now. Truth be told, that won't be the case unless this shinigami possesses someone else. I know L will never let me go as long as it's following me around, and it will follow me around as long as I possess the notebook. Technically speaking, I will possess the notebook until it's destroyed or I give it up, and since the notebook is important evidence and L won't want to risk losing it, I doubt either of those things will be allowed to happen until after the Kira case is solved.

That could take _years._

Years of no security, no privacy, no personal space. Years of not being able to do anything without someone there to supervise.

Years of being a child again.

Years of being paranoid because somewhere, L will be watching footage of me doing everything from sleeping to showering.

Disgusting. I heard that he did the same thing to the Yagamis and didn't even discover anything important.

Matsuda isn't even watching me now; he's staring wistfully out the door, where there's a rather lot of shouting taking place. That's a good thing, really, because I'm being quite disgusting. Saliva has been up in my throat and is mixing with the blood from the freshly opened wound in my cheek, and I'm too panicked to swallow. Some of it slips between my lips and runs down my chin, and I can feel it bubbling in my throat when I breathe. It's repulsive, but I can't calm down enough to swallow it down. Instead, I reach to the nightstand. There's an empty coffee cup from a couple of nights ago, and I spit in it, watching pleasurably as the bottom fills with by bright red saliva. A thin, sticky strand of blood connects my lower lip to the pool in the cup, and I wipe my face with the back of my sleeve before sitting it down in the coffee table.

I hadn't realized it, but this is the first time I've been anxious enough to chew a scar into my mouth like that since… well, since I moved into the hotel. Not that it matters now.

* * *

I know that they install the cameras after I fall asleep because when I wake up the next morning, I'm alone and the door is shut. The idea fills me with rage all over again, but I manage to hide it. I've decided to stay in here and ignore everything outside. I don't need the laptop, or my phone, or anything really. I can just lay down and think. It might get boring after a while, but…

"Fuck! Rem," I gasp as my eyes open and the first thing I see is the Shinigami across the room. "This arrangement will take some getting used to."

Rem replies with silence and I roll my eyes at her lack of response. I can't exactly say that Rem would be great company, anyways. She hardly talks, and when she does she seems to be quite dim.

My initial suspicions are confirmed when L walks into my room with perfect timing. About twenty seconds from the time I sit up, the door opens and a hunched form lets itself in. I had, of course, gotten used to it, but I'm certainly not happy to see him now.

As early as it is, he looks at me as if he's expecting me to snap at him as I usually do when he comes in without asking first. Instead, I raise a single eyebrow and give him a blank stare. His dark eyes, pools of darkness that have always seemed to absorb me, are slightly widened. I suppose he expected me to throw something. I am tempted to but it seems more logical to at least try and control my temper.

We stand there in silence, probably because L wants this conversation to be the same as usual: I get the first word and he gets the last. But I'm not planning on speaking at all, making L's waiting rather pointless.

"We've arrested Light," L says, breaking the silence. His voice has a hint of annoyance, and I inwardly laugh. I never thought it would be so easy to irritate him. All this time, he's appeared to have nerves of steel.

"Okay," I say simply. Even if I had something better to say, I wouldn't have said it out loud. L and I usually discuss our thoughts regarding the case, which always leaves me impressed that he manages so much and probably leaves him thinking how mediocre I am. I'm not really sure I can handle that, though. I have a bad feeling that, thanks to the promise he broke, I'll be consistently having the same nightmare for some time now.

"You could show some more enthusiasm," he says, frowning.

"I could," I agree, remaining fairly expressionless. "But I'm not. It's difficult to feel any level of enthusiasm for the investigation when one of the people I'm working with is constantly watching whatever I do. I have _no _privacy now and it's because of you."

L's face temporarily contorts into one of disappointment and annoyance. "I've already explained why that had to be done and I shouldn't have to repeat myself for you. You are intelligent enough to understand what I say the first time I say it."

"I do understand what you said, but it's shoddy reasoning," I shoot back, and watch something dangerous flash across his eyes.

"And as for your lack of privacy, that is an illegitimate complaint," L asserts. "I am the only one conducting surveillance over you."

"Yeah, and how does that make it any better?" My tone has become audibly angry now. "I'm sure you'd love to think you're some kind of superhero, but you're a human and susceptible to hormones."

I watch L's eyes narrow at me. The look would be intimidating if I wasn't operating off of my own rush of anger. "Are you suggesting that -"

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm stating a fact," I interrupt. "What you're doing is disgusting. Not that that's going to stop you doing it."

"I think you misunderstand what I'm looking for when conducting surveillance," he shoots back, shaking his head at me. I roll my eyes; clearly he's not getting the point.

"What you're looking for and what you actually see are two different things."

Much to my surprise, he doesn't seem to have a reply to that. He shouldn't, either - it's true, and if he said something that sounded clever and in his favor, it would probably be a lie.

"You can leave now," I say after a short time's silence. "You'll be able to see me just as well from all your monitors."

"Leila," he says, his voice suddenly back to its usual monotone.

"_What?_"

"Are you sure there's not another reason that you dislike being watched like this?" L. Sometimes I have to wonder how he picks this stuff up. I'd have thought that any girl would react this way, but I suppose I'm being too defensive.

"You remember when I wished you good luck?" I ask quietly, a devilish grin dubbing my face. "It looks like you needed it after all." He looks up at me with the eyes I've come to love and hate, the mind I've come to admire, and he looks truly intrigued. After all, he now knows for sure that there are things about me that he doesn't know.

Things that he never will know.

"So…" I continue, "get out."

* * *

**Well, that chapter was a monster. Hard to write, too.**

**Also, just for the record, no, I didn't go into detail on the rape scene and emotions regarding it. Shoot me. This is rated T, guys.**

**Anyways, I hope this is a bit of an improvement over the last chapter. Thanks for all the faves, follows, and reviews - you're all awesome!**

* * *

**By the way, I do know of a few of you who want some legit lemons, but a) I stink at writing them (xD) and b) the pairings are still in the works. I promise you'll get some eventually, loves xD**


	15. Betray

For a week, I sleep without anyone waking me at some ungodly hour of the morning. It is absolute bliss to get seven hours of real, honest-to-God rest. That's really a good thing. After all, a well-rested person can better control their attitude.

As it is, I need all the help I can get. I'm swamped with humiliation and anger each time I go to the restroom, or shower, or even change. Since I'm not restricted to my room like I often was when Light would help with the investigation, I could waltz up to L and punch him in the face whenever I felt like it. As tempting as it is, I stay in my room all of the time, and I only eat when food is brought to me. I don't feel like facing anyone.

So, here I am, a week after the cameras were installed. My body is collapsed across the plush covering of my mattress. My feet are crossed at the ankles and my arms are outstretched at the sides. Fingers slightly curled, every muscle loosed, I feel relaxed. Relaxed… but bored.

The only company I have is Rem, and she only speaks when prompted. Honestly, Light would be better company and he gives me the creeps. After a week of loneliness, though, I'm on the brink. I need someone to talk to, even if the other party is Rem.

"Hey, Rem," I call, hoping that a topic for discussion will come to mind.

"Yes?" Rem answers warily, glancing up at me. I meet her yellow eye and stare into her catlike gaze.

"Rem, what's the realm of the shinigami like?" I'm merely grasping at straws now and we both know that. Still, any conversation is better than none at all.

"It's barren there," says Rem simply, clearly eager to worm out of any conversation with me. "Most shinigami spend their time gambling because there's very little else to do."

"That's all?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. I'd have thought that gods of death would have better things to do.

"Shinigami are immortal. As long as they write a human's name in their Death Note every once in a while, they won't die. As a result, we really have no need to interfere in the human world."

"Oh? Then why did you 'interfere in the human world'?"

All I can hear is Rem's breathing. It still disgusts me and I've taken to turning a fan on at night so I can't hear her when I'm trying to sleep. She is completely silent for a moment, which only succeeds in making me more curious. I take in the quiet while I wait for an answer, although I know she won't give it. My eyes are still locked on her uncovered one, and I see a very… unique emotion flit across it. What is it? Curiosity? Fear? Uncertainty?

I finally realize I won't be getting an answer and I move on to something different. "Why'd you give the death Note to Misa, anyways?" If Rem was picking, selecting Misa of all people was a bad decision on her part. After all, Misa has been repeatedly a few fries short of a HappyMeal.

"It belonged to her," Rem tells me, shrugging a little.

"But why Misa? Did she just pick it up at the right time, like I did?" Maybe it was just a wrong place/wrong time thing. Not that it would right Misa's wrongs, but at least that way she came across the Note by mistake and wasn't roped into this by supernatural beings.

"No, I made sure this got to Misa. As I said, it belongs to her."

I frown, since that makes no sense. Based off of what Rem had already told me, Misa needed to touch the notebook in order to gain ownership of it. But Rem is making it sound as if the notebook belonged to Misa even before. Why? I doubt Rem would tell me even if I continued to ask, so I move on… again. "Er, okay. Don't you regret it, though? You're basically stuck on Earth until the Kira case is solved now, and you haven't benefited from Misa's escapades, have you?"

"No, not particularly," sighs Rem, answering both of my questions in one fell swoop.

Rem… who didn't benefit from Misa's getting her Death Note. Rem, who made certain that misa would get the Note, not anyone else. Rem, who looked almost insulted the night that L announced surveillance in my room, but only when she could see pictures of a confined Misa. It doesn't seem quite right, especially not for a creature that's supposed to be neutral and cold in the face of human troubles.

"Well… it's really a shame that Misa used the notebook. She seemed like such a nice girl when I met her," I say, putting every bit of fake regret that I can manage into my voice.

I watch Rem's lips part slightly, as if she's confused. "She doesn't remember anything," she mutters, sounding rather hopeless. The difference is small enough, though, that I can tell she didn't have much hope to lose in the first place.

"Well… no, but she still killed innocent people," I say, frowning. I put my hands under my head and lift my upper body up a few inches, so my head is no longer sinking into the mattress. "She'll probably spend the rest of her life in prison, and that's if she's lucky."

That look appears, but this time it's much more obvious. It shows up on her face as well as her eyes, and I swallow down the uneasy feelings that accompany the look. "Do humans make a habit of punishing those who have no memory of their crimes?" she asks coldly.

"Well… it's harder to get away with a plea of insanity because psychologists who have studied the subject have discovered that the 'insane' are often aware of their actions and simply refuse to think about them, or fail to show remorse. If Misa insisted that she had forgotten her crimes, it would be taken the same as an insanity defense. She'd end up in prison or on death row no matter what she says," I finish, avoiding Rem's gaze. What I've said has upset her, and knowing that I've upset a god of death is a less than pleasant feeling.

I turn my head away from Rem and stretch back out on the soft surface of the bed.

* * *

**-3rd Person POV-**

* * *

Contrary to what seems to be the popular belief among task force members, L cannot, and has _never _possessed the ability to do seventeen things at the same time. As a result, when conducting surveillance, he isn't always staring at a screen and watching the person in question act in the strange way people tend to act when they think they're alone. Generally, he watches about an hour of live footage per day, and then watches sped-up footage later the same day. Even if he could multitask, he wouldn't be doing so right now. The single task he's attempting to accomplish is difficult enough that it's consuming the last of his energy.

L pokes his fork into a piece of strawberry shortcake. It's a longtime favorite of his. The sweet taste and fresh, special scent of a fresh strawberry had always appealed to him. Besides that, he is astronomically exhausted, both physically and mentally. He has refrained from sleeping, even from ten minute long naps during the day, for the entire week since Light had been arrested. L has never seen the point in getting more sleep than he truly needed, but he knows that an entire week is certainly affecting his body's ability to maintain its functions properly. No matter how much sugar was in his shortcake, he'd have to sleep eventually.

He stuffs a particularly large bite of cake in his mouth and stared down at the laptop on the coffee table. It lists Kira's known victims from this past week, and that is exactly what is disturbing. The list shows no change in the pace of Kira's killings over the past week. The times were still largely randomized, and the number of criminals killed remains reasonably close to the average number of victims per day. L frowns, swallowing his half chewed cake, and narrows his eyes.

Some less intelligent individuals (Matsuda, for instance) might have suggested that Kira's continuation of the same routine, in spite of Light's confinement, suggested that Light was, in fact, innocent. But L knows that isn't right; he's about 97% certain of Light's identity as Kira. He simply lacks the adequate evidence to prove it. Besides, he has long since determined Kira's ability to control the times of death and circumstances surrounding the deaths of his victims, so Light may have planned ahead in case he was arrested or hospitalized.

On the other hand, the continuation of the murders in spite of the alleged Kira's arrest seemed to be a very predictable move. This, L thinks, is far too predictable to be Light. _Is it possible that Light didn't know we were going to arrest him? _L shook his head. Light was an intelligent young man, and he knew about the samples left on the Second Kira's tapes and their envelopes. Light would have known that they had enough information to track down the Second Kira after receiving her final tape. If Light, too, was Kira, he would have known that the arrest of a Second Kira would likely lead to that of his arrest.

Therefore, if Light really was Kira, there would be something more difficult to determine through this seemingly obvious defense.

But _what?_

L sighs and switches tabs rather quickly. As much as he wishes to keep his mind on that singular topic, he knows that a small break will often ease the thinking process. He is now watching a shot of Leila's room. She's sitting up on the bed, with one leg bent at the knee and held protectively in front of her chest, and the other leg straight out in front of her. She's having a discussion with the shinigami, which stands a good three feet from the bed.

"... not that bad," says Leila, finishing the sentence that he'd apparently missed. "Anyways, if the shinigami in your realm were really as annoyed at Ryuk as you said they were, why didn't they just kill Kira?" L narrows his eyes. He'll have to rewatch this particular footage later - who is Ryuk?

"Most of us weren't sure exactly where Ryuk was at first," the shinigami explains softly. "Even after it became clear that he was somewhere in Japan, we only knew his general location and it took some time to find out who his human was." L stares intently at the shinigami; clearly she knows who Kira is. Unfortunately, there is no way of forcibly procuring such information from a shinigami.

"That suggests that someone found out who the human was eventually, though," insists Leila.

"Yes, someone did," answers Rem, and L is not oblivious to Leila's frustration at such a generic response. "Even so, a shinigami cannot kill a human who holds a Death Note unless they have given their Death Note to a human. Since most shinigami possess only one Death Note, that makes it nearly impossible for us to kill a Note's human owner."

"Really?" Leila exclaims, sitting up a little straighter. "That's quite nice to know." _So Leila is immune to the effects of a shinigami's Death Note for now. Interesting. _

Rem nods but stands silently, and still. Then, sounding surprisingly bold considering Rem's usual behavior, adds, "You're still vulnerable to Ryuk… or to me." Leila's eyes widen slightly, but something about her tells L that this blatant threat is not shocking to her. He bites his thumb just hard enough to leave an impression and frowns. If Leila has been threatened, it's likely that the threat applied to all of them. The shinigami knew as well as Leila that the conversation would be heard, and likely made the threat obvious for that very reason.

But why was the threat necessary? Perhaps the shinigami wanted its notebook back… but no, that was simply illogical. If the shinigami truly wanted the notebook back, it would have simply killed them, taken it, and gone without warning. After all, the shinigami had just implied…

"You and Ryuk both have extra notebooks?" Leila asked, fidgeting but recovering from her quickly. "I thought you said extras were hard to come by. How did you get yours?"

The shinigami stands, still and silent, for a few moments before responding. "I can't explain that." _Can't, or won't?_

Leila gives a half friendly and half frustrated laugh. "That reminds me of my one of my friends, Jeremy Patterso -" L feels a momentary thrill of victory. _Jeremy Patterson. _Leila's face has twisted into something of a scowl since she's realized her mistake, but she evidently decides that what's done is done. "Jeremy Patterson. He'd say that he 'couldn't explain' something whenever he thought it would get him in trouble." L couldn't help but roll his eyes; Leila's attempt to irritate the shinigami were rather half-hearted, and almost amusing.

* * *

Jeremy Patterson was a drug addict who died about two months before Leila arrived in Japan. He overdosed and was found in an alley in Los Angeles. Since Jeremy Patterson and Leila had been friends, L knows that Leila must have lived in that general area. He was also aware of her parents' wealth. Her entire education at To-Oh had been paid for from the beginning, and her rent had been paid for her when she'd lived on her own. Unfortunately, Leila had gone to great lengths to hide who exactly the money was coming from. L had thought that after a while, Leila would slip up, but now it seems that he won't have to wait for it.

Within minutes, he knew as much about Leila - Leila _Grey _\- as there was to know.

* * *

Before L even has a chance to touch the doorknob, Leila has pulled the door open and is glaring at him with an alarming amount of dislike. The only other time he had received a look like that from her had been the day they'd met, when they were eating lunch. For some reason, she'd been quite perturbed at L's presence, and he had been quick to realize that it was because he had a bizarre way of causing her to behave in a less friendly manner than usual.

"I could hear you walking," she says, her tone of voice suggesting that it is a complaint. "What do you want?"

L lightly touches her shoulder and she jumps back in shock, leaving the way into her room open. He shuffles in and closes the door behind him, leaving a rather baffled-looking Leila standing against the wall. "I need to discuss something with you, Leila."

"Discuss _what_?" Leila snapped harshly as L climbed onto her bed. She looked rather uncomfortable with that, as always; L never could figure out why. He had sometimes wondered if Leila feared some sort of sexual harassment, but quickly decided that she knew he was not the type to do that.

"I would like you to speak with Light," he answers coolly after settling on her mattress. He took extra care to keep his balance; her covers were in such disorder that he was really in danger of falling.

"Speak with Li - he's in confinement and he doesn't know I'm working with you," she says, her tone more neutral but hostility still lacing her gaze. L smirks at her from his perch; he is rather pleased that she's failed to predict this.

"Perhaps if you would spend more time working with the rest of the task force, you would be aware that Light has so far refused to talk," he suggests, adjusting position of his feet.

"So? Seeing me isn't going to make him say anything," Leila answers, her annoyance evident. "He lies to me just as much as he lies to anyone else. What, did you think I was special to him because I'm his girlfriend or something? I thought you were cleverer than that."

L notes that his eye twitches at the sarcasm in her voice and swallows before continuing. "He'll talk to you because there's something he doesn't know about you… you're the Second Kira."

Leila raises her eyebrows and bites her lower lip. He glances at them; they are full, and a shade darker than the rest of the skin on her face. He remembers noting how swollen they often were after her dates with Light and again adjusts his feet. That isn't supposed to be what he's thinking about.

"If you're planning on letting him touch the notebook so he can see Rem…" she says finally, and L comes to the realization that he is still staring at her mouth. "... If he isn't Kira, he'll actually believe me."

"I am near certain that Light is K -"

"Yeah, I know. I've gathered that when you start spewing percentages, one actually means ninety-five," interrupts Leila with a roll of her eyes. "That means that there's still a five percent chance that he's innocent. You've already got him under surveillance all the time; if I forced him into the realization that the supernatural isn't just a stupid kids' story, he could be seriously fucked up." L sucks in a quick breath. She rarely curses out loud and it comes as a bit of a shock on the rare occasion that she does. "Are you sure you want to risk that?" she continues, as if she hasn't noticed.

"Yes," L answers with absolute certainty, glad that she at least realized his plan. "The percentage is more than ninety-five now, and I find it worth the risk. Besides, you know as well as I do that Light would be able to adapt to knowledge of the supernatural. If we are able to prove his innocence, I will explain to him that I told you to lie about being the Second Kira."

"Fine. And when will this plan of yours be put into action?' Leila replies coldly. She's still leaning against the far wall, something else that L is unused to. In previous days, she would have joined him by now.

"Soon," he says vaguely. "Very likely within the next two days. i wish to inform the task force about it and they are all absent this evening."

"Why's that?"

"Leila, it's two in the morning. I may be an insomniac but I'm very aware that most humans are asleep by this hour." L watches her eyes slide over to a clock and widen in surprise. "You should get some rest."

"You're one to talk. And you're sitting on my bed, too. Get out," she says, the hostility returning.

"Why?" L returns smoothly. "You were fine with me staying here on the 12th of last month."

"Yes, and on the 12th of last month I wasn't aware that you were a creep. Get out," she repeats, and he listens to the hostility in her voices as it magnifies itself at an almost exponential rate.

He rises from her bed without a word and walks past Leila as they head in opposite directions: Leila to the bed and L to the door. Leila is sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for him to leave by the time L says anything. He glances over his shoulder, the corners of his mouth turning up in a wicked fashion. "When you speak to Light, be sure not to let anything slip… Leila Grey."

By the time he turns, he in dreadfully aware of a sound in the background, of something sliding against the wood of her nightstand. In an instant, before L has a chance to even consider moving, a glass vase shatters against the wall to his left. L takes a moment to consider whether Leila is so angry because he knows a little more of the truth now, or if her anger is because of the extra proof she now has that L is watching her. Still, after the second vase shatters against the closed door only inches above his head, he regains the common sense to step back and shield his eyes. "Stop it, Leila," he commands and turns slightly, so he can face her. "If you throw anything else, I'll have everything removed from this room but the bare essentials."

"What's your problem? You're so damn nosy even though my history has nothing to do with the case, which you're _supposed _to be focused on…" _How do you get a woman to silence herself in a situation like this? _"You're being a pervert, although I don't know why I'm surprised…" _I can't just tell _her _to be quiet, she'd never listen. _Even as he walks over to her and wraps his arm around her wrist to stop her from throwing anything else, she continues her rant. "You're the person who made me come here in the first place and now I'm suffering for it. What kind of screwed up justice is that, you assh -" _Lips…_

The minute the thought comes to his mind, he pushes aside any doubt and pushes his own lips onto hers. He feels the hum of a word against his mouth, and then complete silence. _Oh… that… may not have been the best move on my part… _L felt his stomach tie itself in a knot as Leila pushed her free hand against his chest. It's like a halfway formed fist; her fingers are curled in but her palm is flat, so the heel of her palm crashes into the lower part of his sternum. It pushes him back rather forcibly, and L feels his lips tremble as he struggles to regain his balance.

"I'm not into anger sex," says a blunt Leila, not meeting his eyes. He watches her throat as she swallows, and notes that she now appears nervous, more than anything.

"Nor am I," agrees L, surprised at the throatiness of his own voice.

"Then why did you do that?" she snaps, scooting back a good foot.

"I merely wished to silence you for a moment. You were too angry to say anything sensible," L answers, quickly forcing his voice back into monotone.

"You need to leave," she says quietly. "I'll pick up the glass in the doorway, and then…"

"I'll go," he finishes quickly as she slides off of the bed and hurriedly picks up shards of glass from the floor. "Leila, stop," he adds, for the second time in around five minutes. "You'll cut yourself. I'll have Watari bring a broom…"

"No, you can't leave until this is cleaned up and it will take longer if we have to wait," Leila cuts in, her voice shaky. She placed the glass she'd gathered so far out of the way and began to pick up more. "And I want you out."

The silence that follows her statement is nearly overwhelming. L decides that he can't remember such a horrible sound as this one, where all he can here is the sound of glass against glass in Leila's hand, and her breath catching, and his own heartbeat. "Thank you… Leila," he said finally, slowly. "The way is clear enough now. I'll go." Without another word, he exited the room, leaving Leila alone of the floor, staring at the pile of pastel green and blue glass that she'd gathered.

L found himself thinking that he had just set himself up for a very, very awkward living arrangement for the remainder of the case.

* * *

Light Yagami had never found himself in a less comfortable position than this.

With cameras in all four corners of the small cell, Light can do nothing that won't be seen. He must be very attentive to act normal, or close to normal, in spite of the shinigami hanging over him and the stress he was under.

He had no idea if his plan would work. In fact, he doubted that it would.

There had been next to no warning of his arrest. In fact, the closest thing to a warning that Light had received had been a rumor. He'd heard whispers of L's - _Hideki Ryuga's _\- car arriving at a location very close to To-Oh, and then disappearing shortly after. The rumors said that there was no rhyme nor reason to the visit, but all Light could think was that L had not been on campus that day. So why had his car been there?

Light had been forced to entrust the notebook to someone else. Someone he hardly trusted. In order to hand the notebook to them, he'd been forced to act on a mere hunch.

Light laid on his side, his cheek pressed against the cool surface of the concrete, and his body curled against itself. _Takada will be an excellent Kira, or she will face the consequences…_

He squirmed a little, trying to get into a more comfortable position, but it was impossible. He had spent far too much time sitting against the wall earlier; his back was hurting on the spine to prove it. The floor had proven for comfortable than the cot in the corner, but he still began to regret not planning for this. Light had known it might have happened eventually, but he had never expected it would happen so soon.

He hears the sound of a door open and his eyes snap open. The fix on a pair of shoes that are very familiar to him: dark red midcalf Converses with black laces on a finely-toned pair of legs.

Light has no feelings for Leila, really, but he is still rather humiliated at her seeing him like this. he sits up quickly, straightening his back and turning his head so that his hair isn't falling into his eyes at random.

"Light…" Leila murmurs, sounding almost heartbroken. "I can't believe you're here…"

_Yes, speaking of that… why are _you _here, Leila? You don't belong here. Frankly, you're too naive and not judgemental enough to be a Kira suspect._

"Why did you get yourself into this situation, Light?" she asks, stroking the side of his face. Her fingers are smooth and cool against his own hot skin, and he finally bring his eyes to her.

"I think you already know that I'm a Kira suspect, Leila," he sighed, and didn't even have to act as if he was upset. It came naturally. _She's crying. I knew she had fallen for me but I didn't realize it was that hard. Is it possible that i could manipulate her? Over the past couple of months it's become evident that I've got her wrapped around my pinkie finger, but…_

"I know. What I'm saying is…" She removes her hand from his face and he reaches up to her face. He gently runs his fingers under her eyes and wipes away the tears pooling there.

"Ooo-oh-oh!" chuckles a very amused Ryuk. "Girls really eat that stuff up, don't they?"

_Yes, they do. Leila is on the verge of a meltdown, making it that much more likely that she'll cave in if I ask a favor of her. But how do I convey the message if…_

"What I'm saying is…" she echoes, and shoves his hand away. Light's eyes widen for a moment before he forces them back to their usual narrowed state. How could she treat him like this? He had been certain that she practically worshipped him! Every time he'd asked for a date, she'd eagerly accepted. In fact, she had initiated their very first date. "How could you get yourself caught?"

_W-what? How does she know? I never told her anything, or even hinted at my views of Kira in front of her. Leila never knew that I was working on the Kira case, either… so how could she have concluded that I am Kira?_

"Leila, what are you suggesting? I'm not Kira, okay?" Light gasps, shaking his head. "I thought you of all people would know that!" _If she backs off, then it means she is really head-over-heels in love for me and would believe me over L… or whoever told her I'm Kira._

"Look, I'm not stupid," she says, her voice filled with rage, and Light finds himself shocked for the second time. "I know you're Kira and I know about your goddamn notebook, okay?"

Time seems to freeze. Leila's gaze is fixed on Light, and he notices how blank her face is in spite of the emotions racing through her voice. He is vaguely reminded of how terrified and angry he was when he first met the blank-faced, monotonous L. With Leila, it's almost worse because he has never expected behavior of this kind from her. _Leila… what the hell are you doing? If you really do know about the notebook, why the hell are you talking about while we're under surveillance? And… _how _do you know about the notebook? Does that mean you have one, or someone who has one told you about it? That's the only way you could ever know, but you…_

"Leila," Light mutters finally, dropping the volume of his voice and barely moving his lips. His voice is so low, so quiet, that he's sure no one could hear it but her. Then, as added insurance, he leans close to he and wraps his arms around her waist. Light pulls her close, so their chests touch and he can feel her heartbeat through the fabric of their shirts. Leila's heart is beating rapidly, and Light smiles into her ear. it's a sign that she truly has fallen for him. "We're being watched. Don't speak about it so loudly."

"Watched?" answers a snarky Leila, her hands running across his chest in a skillful manner. Light grins; evidently their many makeout sessions had taught her something. At the same time, he has to remind himself to pay attention to what is really important. "No, Light. We aren't. Our friend, Hideki Ryuga, has placed a lot of trust in me. The cameras are off, and if you want proof, I'll take them down right here, right now." She's wearing a prideful sneer. _Do I look like that when I've accomplished something? Although I suppose I certainly deserve it…_

_And… does this mean that she knows Hideki Ryuga is actually L?_

Light gives a nod and then brushes his hand through the hair over his ears, hoping that his 'girlfriend' will understand the signal. _Bugs, Leila…_

"There are no bugs… not any that are turned on, anyways. Do you really think I'd talk about the Note if we were being listened to? This could get me in just as much trouble as you," she says, rolling her eyes at him. _If she knows I'm Kira, then why is she acting like this? She should know that I could kill her when I get out of here… if I get out of here._

_I have to admit it's unsettling that I'm losing my confidence like this…_

"Alright," Light said warily, watching as she stood on the got and began to yank the camera in that corner from the wall. "Alright! I believe you! How did you get Ryuga to trust you enough to turn off all of the cameras and bugs? That's very unlike him."

"If, by 'Hideki Ryuga', you mean L, it's because he wants in my pants." Leila's face scrunches up as if it's the most painful thing she's ever had to say. _It probably is, too…_

"Uh, yeah…" is all Light can force through his teeth as he looks her up and down. _He probably does, too. L's a pervert… the same guy who bugged every room in the home of a fourteen-year-old girl and conducted surveillance on that home twenty-four hours a day. Of course he'd want Leila, he probably thinks she's gullible enough to take advantage of…_

"I have something very important to tell you, Light…" Leila pauses before climbing down from the cot and sliding back into Light's embrace. "You've probably guessed it by now, but… I'm the Second Kira."

_No… she couldn't be! I would have noticed it. Unless… I wouldn't have? If she's like me, she's a very good actor. Perhaps it just took her until now to realize that I'm Kira and that's why she hasn't mentioned anything before. Yes… that';s it. She just didn't want to give away too much information that is important to Kira. Besides, she wouldn't lie to me unless she felt it was absolutely necessary. All of the signs show that she's infatuated with me: her pulse, he eagerness, and her behavior overall. The Second Kira was infatuated with the original Kira - me - too. It all fits! It even explains why she's been acting so cocky. In terms of the Note, she has even more power that I do._

"Leila, I need you to prove it. Do you have your notebook with you?"

"What? No! I would never risk compromising Kira's killing weapon to L!" she exclaims, shaking her head as if in a panic. "Especially after I realized that you are Kira. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't around. I really do love you, Light… but I did bring…" Light watches, surprised, as she reaches into the collar of her shirt and grasps something… in her bra. She brings out a piece of paper, slightly wrinkled, and brushes it against his hand without a word. "Rem."

"Rem? That's your shinigami?" Lights asks, but it's a rhetorical question. He has become quite aware of a presence behind him, but he tries not to stiffen. It might alert the girl in his arms, whose face is leaned into his collarbone. He turns slightly and feels her head shift.

_Rem._

The shinigami behind him violently contrasts with Ryuk. She seems to be made of bone, and is a pale greyish-white color. Something similar to hair falls across her head, and the tips of it matches her lips, which are a pale shade of purple. Only one eye is left uncovered by the bandages that run across her face, and it's cold with a catlike slit for a pupil.

_She really is the Second Kira, which means…_

"Leila, what's Ryug - L's name?" Light knows that the excitement in his voice is clear, but he can't stop it. It's clear that Leila notices it, and he's given further proof of Leila's infatuation for him when she smiles against the skin of his cheek. She dips her neck to plant a series of kisses on his collarbone. He begins to feel rather impatient, but she raises her head and meets his eyes. "I'd love to tell you, Light…" _Good. Now please, spit it out, Leila. _"... but there's a price, Light."

_She's making demands now? I'm not sure if I should allow that! But I don't have a choice, do I…?_

"What is it, Leila?" he asked, trying hard to sound patient and loving. _It's all worth it for L's name._

"You'll make me your queen… right, Light?" Leila whispers, her lips tickling his ear. _That isn't so bad. She only wants to be my romantic partner… and when the time comes, I can just kill her. _"When you are the king of this new world, I want to stand by your side and be your support."

_It's time for some charm. I need her to believe me…_

"Of course, Leila. I was planning on it already," he declares, planting a soft kiss on her full lips. "Any king would be lucky to have such a beautiful, loyal queen at their side."

"His name…" murmured Leila, practically purring. "Yes… I'll tell you now. Just like I promised…"

Light felt a rush of pride as her lips once again touched his ear as she conveyed to him the most important thing he would ever, could ever, hear. The name of the glorious investigator, L. The name of the investigator who is about to fall from his place in the heavens to land exactly where he belongs: the deepest, darkest pits of hell.

"Do you want me to kill him?" she whispers, and he feels her touching his neck, his collarbone, his chest.

_If she killed him for me… it would make this all easier. I could use her to prove my innocence and then pin all of the remaining task force members' suspicions to her. But…_

"No," Light answers, his pride finally getting the best of him. He finally allowed his own fingertips to run across Leila's body. He senses her warming against him and watches as a blush adds pale pink to her cheeks. "L was a worthy opponent. He… _deserves _to be taken down by me."

"Mmm," purrs a contented-sounding Leila as their lips meet. "But how do you plan to do that? You might not be out of here for a while, even with my help."

"You brought a piece of the notebook with you, didn't you, Leila?" he asked, pulling back a little so he could meet her eyes.

She bit her lips and stared into his eyes. She radiated uncertainty. "Yes… but I didn't bring a writing utensil. I'm so sorry… I messed up."

Light smiles at her, hoping that his gaze doesn't look cruel, and if it does that Leila loves him too much to see it. _Love blinds. _"As long as I can write legibly, any writing material is fine. Do you really want to help me kill L?"

He watches her eyes flash dangerously before she responds. "Do you… have a needle?"

"No, I don't" is his simple answer. He reaches up to her hair and pulls out her hair clip, causing an extra wave of strawberry blond to fall into her eyes. He used two fingers to open the hair clip, and he began to rub the smaller metal portion against the cement floor of the cell. Soon, it was sharp, and he smiled in satisfaction at what was to come. "With L dead, Leila, we'll be together as long as we both live. You, being the Second Kira and the woman I love… it must be fate."

"Oh, I hear the women like _that _word, too," Ryuk laughs loudly.

"Light…" gasps Leila as he runs his hand across her own. Light resisted the urge to laugh at her. _If it's this easy to turn her on it will be easy to use her in the future. Maybe I should keep her around after all._ Without a word, he separates her thumb from the rest of her fingers and quickly stabs the fleshy part of it with the sharpened end of the hair clip. He hears her cry out, but is barely aware of it. What he _is _aware of is his picking the piece of her Death Note from the floor and tracing her blood into a legible group of letters. L's name.

"Put a time," Leila mutters. "L can't die while we're…" Needless to say, Light was way ahead of her, and he has written a date about two weeks in the future. Light gestured at it, and then dropped the clip and Death Note to the floor.

Kissing.

It was something that had becoming meaningless to Light over the past year, but now he was sure he had never been so enthusiastic about such an act. _She is responsible for L's death… she's special for now, at least. I'll spoil her while she's still around. _He kisses her on the mouth, the throat. He sweeps his tongue across her perfect teeth. He focuses on a sensitive area between the base of her neck and her collarbone, and she laughs before pushing him lightly, wounded thumb apparently forgotten. "Stop! If I have hickeys, it'll look a bit… odd."

He watches his girlfriend glance at the watch on her wrist. "Our hour's up," she announces, pushing her hair back and reapplying the slightly bloodied hair clip. She shoved the Death Note piece back into her bra and stood up. "You'll have to… er, fix the camera before they turn them back on," she says, turning her head. Light knows it's just to cover her blush, and he chuckles before rising. Unlike Leila, he's just tall enough to restore the camera to the original position.

By the time he turns back around, Leila is gone.

* * *

**Holy moly! Chapter FIFTEEN? I doubted I would make it this far in the beginning, and I want to thank _all of my readers _for helping me accomplish this. I wouldn't have made it this far without you.**

**To celebrate chapter 15, I made a new cover. I hope you all like it c: The full size version is available on my DA.**

**Anyways, I want to comment on this chapter. Yes, I left you guys with on helluva cliffhanger. Love ya!**  
**This is a bit shorter than my last chapter, and I apologize for that, but I think this is probably one of the best chapters I've written so far. Any thoughts?**


	16. Love is a Drug

I walk away from Light's cell, humming in satisfaction.

_Livin' easy, lovin' free_

I knew I was a decent actor, but I never imagined I'd be good enough to fool Light in a situation like this. I suppose he's so desperate to be in a better place that he wasn't thinking straight. I noticed that he didn't seem as down to Earth as usual, and I'm certain that assisted me in my mission to prove Light's guilt.

_Season ticket on a one way ride_

Still, I can't help but think on the single question that plagues my mind. _Who the hell's acting as Kira now? Did Light pass his notebook to someone else, or is he even aware that the killings have continued? _At first, L and the rest of us had simply assumed that Light had written names in the notebook in advance, just in case something like this happened. Just in case Light was arrested. But just a day ago, criminals that Light couldn't have been aware of began to drop dead one by one. In spite of myself, and how truly solemn it all is, I feel myself smirk as I walk.

_Askin' nothing, Leave me be_

It's hard not to marvel in L's genius. I am, once again, put to shame; he formulated most of this plan, not me. As much as I'd like to claim credit for most of what has just occurred, the only parts I really had anything to do with was making certain that I had a "writing utensil" on me and all the kissing. Truth be told, I daresay L was less than enthusiastic about that when I mentioned that I'd probably have to continue my arts of seduction.

_Takin' everything in my stride_

I know that our 'kiss' affected how he sees me. I don't know what the impact was, exactly, but it can't be good for a professional relationship. That's all we're supposed to have, really…

_Don't need reason, don't need rhyme_

… Still, I must admit to myself that I do find him charming on some off moments. And there are, of course, parts of him that I rather enjoy looking at. After all, I've been aware of my strange obsession with his hands and fingers for some time. Although I loathe to admit it, I've sometimes caught myself remembering the night that he stayed in my room, and recalling the gentle touch of his gentle fingers. I've caught myself yearning his touch again, and then shoving the thought into the far back of my head along with every other dirty thing ever to touch my unconscious mind.

_Ain't nothin' that I'd rather do_

I sometimes find myself remembering the pleasant feeling of his hair brushing against me hand.

_Goin' down, party time_

Other times, it's his cool, smooth, porcelain skin. I want to feel it beneath the warmth of my own fingers, but I doubt it will ever happen.

_My friends are gonna be there, too_

L is so impersonal, I doubt he's capable of forming a permanent romantic relationship. The same thing applies to me - romance is almost an impossibility.

_I'm on the highway to hell_

To be honest, if I let myself continue with this infatuation that I don't want to think of as 'love', I may very well be setting myself up for a living hell.

_On the highway to hell_

If he's leading me on, or if he changes his mind about our relationship later, I'm not sure what it would mean for me.

_Highway to hell_

I've never felt anything close to this for _anyone _before.

_I'm on the highway to hell._

In fact, I've never had anyone I thought of as more than an acquaintance. I suppose Japan has changed me after all… again, and again, and again.

_No stop signs, speed limit_

As I walk, I pull the crumpled paper from my bra. I'm getting ready to enter an area full of cameras, and I honestly don't want any of the task force member to see me doing that and think I'm touching myself.

_Nobody's gonna slow me down_

I read the name of the paper and allow myself a short, unpleasant laugh. I don't even know if this is his real name, but I doubt it is.

_Like a wheel, gonna spin it_

Landon Lawrence. Light's untidy scrawl takes up the entire fragment of the Death Note, and I get a sudden image of his eager face as he wrote it. He looked mad, his eyes flashing dangerously and the corners of his mouth drawn into the ugliest smile I'd ever been unfortunate enough to witness. I had watched his eyes flash with an insanity I wasn't aware he held, and stared, disgusted, at the saliva that sat on every lush curve of his lips.

_Nobody's gonna mess me around_

Seeing that made my thoughts echo with a single thought. I could only hear myself saying how glad I was that I had never really been attracted to him. It was clear that Light was no longer a truly kind soul, if he'd ever been one.

_Hey Satan, payin' my dues_

I push open one of the double doors and slide into the backseat of the limousine that simultaneously pulls up to the curb. It's significantly cooler in the car than it was outdoors and leather of the seat seems to freeze to my skin. I'm quick to realize that I'm covered in a thin layer of sweat, and that I'm completely exhausted from my considerably draining efforts.

_Playin' in a rockin' band_

I lean my head back and feel the cold as it reaches through the skin of my neck. It seems to shoot down my spine and to my toes, and it reverberates through my skull.

_Hey momma, look at me_

I feel too conflicted for this to be real right now.

_I'm on my way to the promised land!_

Is it possible that I've fallen in love with the man who has enraged me, but also fascinated me? The man who sometimes elevates my ego because of his ridiculous behavior, but also impresses me with his incredible intellect and deductive abilities… yes. It's very possible. In fact, it's likely. He's made an impression on my life. L has given me my first friend, and the first person I've ever come close to trusting. He is the first person who's ever broken my heart, and the first person who's ever tried to repair it.

_I'm on the highway to hell_

Yes, it's possible. And yes, it's real.

_Highway to hell_

It's real, and it's going to kill me when I am snapped into reality. The fragile pieces that build me up will once again shatter when I realize that L does not, and cannot, feel the same. Needless to say, I'm dreading it.

_I'm on the highway to hell!_

The car vibrates slightly, and I feel as if it's rocking me to sleep. That's probably a good thing. Perhaps some rest will help me clear out my addled mind.

_Highway to hell_

All I can hope is that I'll snap out of this idiotic trance I've apparently fallen into. Damn that man. He shouldn't has kissed me like that… even though it seemed a more genuine kiss than Light has ever given to me.

_Don't stop me…_

* * *

"Leila! How'd it go?" cries Matsuda, who appears over my shoulder the minute Watari walks me through the door our new headquarters. I was told they would be permanent, but I didn't expect that HQ would be a huge skyscraper in the center of the city. It attracts so much attention that it blends in perfectly. The interior is simple, but I don't doubt that we will be able to work more efficiently now that we have a more permanent place to stay.

"Er, great, Matsu," I answer, taking a quick step away from him. He blushes, apparently realizing his mistake, and brushes a few strands of his black hair away from his forehead.

"Sorry," he mutters, glancing over my shoulder and immediately staring at the floor. I know only a single person who can put the fear of God in Matsuda like that, and I have mixed feeling about being in his presence. "I-I didn't mean to be so close."

I snort and give a casual roll of my eyes. "I know, Matsu, it's not a problem."

"So, what happened?" shouts Aizawa, who sounds over excited as usual. The only difference is that this time, there's a real reason behind it. I know everyone in the room is impatient to hear the results of my 'talk' with Light, but I've been personally instructed not to say much until I've been told. "Did Light -"

"Aizawa, please," murmurs a saddened voice that comes from a chair to my far left, which I can see without even turning my head. It's been pushed there, and faces the wall alone. It's as if Light's father has put himself into time out. Mr. Yagami brings me to the reality that Light has a family that will be horribly impacted by his actions. _How will Mr. Yagami take this? _"I'm sure Miss Hill will tell us in due time."

Another voice, the one I've been waiting for, finally silences all the others with a few simple words. "Did Light confirm it?" L asks, and I can tell that he's very close simply because I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.

I reach into the pocket and pull out the scrap of paper from the pocket of my hoodie. It's slightly crumpled and looks to be a normal piece of paper, but it seems to weigh a ton. _I'm holding Light's life in my hands. Maybe even the lives of the other Yagamis…_

An arm darts around my body and gently plucks the paper from my grasp. I turn to L, my body moving slowly, as if it's dangerous to relocate too quickly. To be honest, it probably is. I feel as if I might collapse at the slightest touch.

L holds the paper level with his waist, and stares at the words written on it. I watch his eyes widen, and I feel suddenly, selfishly satisfied at my success. He slowly moves the paper closer to the face, and his hunch becomes more severe. it's like he can't believe what he's seeing. I watch L's thumb run across the surface of the paper, and then feel a sudden thrill as his body loosens up and he whispers, "Leila, you've done well. Excellent, really." His voice grows slightly louder, just loud enough that everyone can hear, and he adds, "Everyone. Light has confirmed his identity as Kira. It is certainly enough that justice will prevail… just as I promised." The smile, the one I remember struggling not to mark as adorable, lights up his usually blank face. It's impish, really, and glows with an entire side of L's personality that no one else is allowed to see.

In spite of the importance of the discovery, the room grows silent. I can, of course, understand why. Such a declaration isn't to be taken lightly, especially when Kira's loved one is here in the room with us.

Finally, Matsuda speaks up, and I'm almost tempted to hug him for breaking the frigid silence. "But… Kira's still killing criminals."

"That's why we'll be keeping Light and Misa for a while," explains L to the protests of the other men.

"Ryuzaki!" Aizawa exclaims, his eyebrows rising and his voice spiked with surprise. "They're murderers! They should be going through the same process as any other criminal would be."

I watch Mogi give a hesitant, but sharp, nod. Even Mr. Yagami says something. "The Kiras shouldn't remain here," he argues. "They… should face the consequences for their crimes."

"Light might know who's acting as Kira right now," I cut in, my voice low but deliberate. "And Misa could probably help the investigation along, too. How are they supposed to help if they're in court all of the time?"

"I don't want either of them out of my sight until this case is completely solved," adds L, his voice suddenly fierce. I note that he's still very, very close to me, and wonder why the universe insists upon doing this to me right after I've come to the painful conclusion that I'm in love with him. "They could be key to solving this case. It's still as I said, though; justice will be served." Even in such a somber situation, it's hard not to make some kind of sarcastic remark. It's funny, really, how L has convinced himself that he's the epitome of justice.

"Well," a hesitant Aizawa begins, clearly not wanting to agree with L but still looking slightly persuaded. "... I guess that whatever happens, and whenever their trial takes place, they'll both be sentenced to death, but…" My lips tighten as I remember Rem's reaction the last time I mentioned the possibility of the death penalty. I still have an awful feeling about that and wish they'd stop bringing it up.

"Yes," agrees L, sounding like a parent, pleased that his child is finally catching on to their ABCs. "Remember, we still have another Kira to take down."

"Leila, why didn't you just ask Light who was killing for him while you were there?" Matsuda asks, and I open my mouth slightly, feeling frustrated. Maybe Matsuda isn't the smartest, but even he should know the most basic rules of deceit.

"If I tried to get him to tell me too much at once, or too many details, Light would have been suspicious," I explain, shaking off my shock. it is Matsuda, after all. It's hard not to forgive him even when he does ask such an incredibly stupid question.

"Light is under the impression that Leila is very naive and is in love with him," L notes and begins to walk back to the monitors. "If she had asked too many questions instead of instinctively trusting him, Light would have begun to question her devotion to him."

"I see," says Matsuda, his cheeks turning a faint pink.

"So," I say, preparing to change the subject slightly, but I'm interrupted by a chair screeching across the floor as Mr. Yagami stands. it's such a rapid movement that I flinch in alarm, and every head in the task force turns to the sound.

"Ryuzaki, I can't stand this," Mr. Yagami gasps. "We now have material evidence proving that my _son _is Kira! It's too much to take, and I am afraid I may take… regrettable actions… if I were to remain free."

It's the beginning of the consequences that everyone had already known were coming; the elephant in the room, so to speak. Mr. Yagami stands, breathing rapidly to the point where I'm sure he'll hyperventilate, and his eyes bore holes in the floor. His hands are raised to the sides of his head, as if he has an awful headache… and I'm sure he does.

"Chief!" Matsuda is the first to protest, taking a step from the place he was previously frozen to. "I-It isn't your fault!"

Aizawa looks a bit more understanding but that's after his eyes widen with shock. He's a parent, too, and I suppose that once he imagines one of his children becoming a serial killer, he gains some understanding. I personally can't imagine the feeling, but it's likely that Mr. Yagami has concluded that he's a failed parent. I'm sure his worried about how Light's mother and sister will take the news, too. I feel a twinge of sympathy myself when I imagine the innocent, grinning face of Sayu and the motherly smile of Mrs. Yagami. They both love Light so much… I'm sure the news will tear them apart.

Matsuda's blurt goes ignored, much to my surprise. I've gotten used to his every word being scolded. But it seems that everyone appreciates the true gravity of the situation and don't want to waste the time. After the silence becomes deadly full of discomfort, and the air fills with an intense heaviness, L finally shatters the silence. "We've prepared for that, Mr. Yagami. Watari will escort you to a place of confinement," he says, and I watch his eyes slide over to the old man as he enters the room. "It will, of course, be more pleasant than the confinement of Light and Misa."

Mr. Yagami nods and agreement and follows the beckoning Watari, and the room falls silent as they leave.

_Light… I wonder if you ever thought about this. About how this would affect your family._

* * *

"So, what are you planning on telling Light's family? They're down two members now." It's me who finally asks the question, and gives voice to the elephant in the room. Hours have passed, and the only one really doing anything is L, whose contributions hardly count since they're coming for nothing. He's watching Misa lean into her restraints and Light lie on the floor.

"The Yagamis will be told that Mr. Yagami is on an important mission due to the Kira case, and that he won't be back for some time," L answers, and puts a whole strawberry in his mouth. I'm reminded of the first time I ate with him. I'm not certain that he bothers to chew the strawberry before he swallows it. "They will receive Mr. Yagami's salary as usual, and a substantial raise for the inconvenience."

This seems to satisfy the men in the task force, and for once, I too am satisfied. An explanation like that is just vague enough to make it believable. "We should be devoting our time to identifying this… new Kira," Aizawa says finally. I suddenly realize that our team is down to 5, and that's if you count me. L, Mogi, Matsu, Aizawa, me. _Will we be enough?_

"I agree. There's no point in waiting to be productive until the next time I can speak with Light," I say with a respectful nod of my head.

"As it is, it's very likely that L entrusted his Death Note to someone he was closely acquainted with," L answers, and we all nod. That much seems straightforward, at least. "His friends and acquaintances from school are well worth investigating, so we will begin with them."

"That makes sense," agrees Matsuda. "But are you and Leila planning on talking to any of them personally?"

"That is an option," murmurs L, staring into a cup of tea across from his cake. He glances up to the monitors in front of him and sits, silent, in consideration. Matsu looks rather thrilled that his ideas are being considered, and I offer him a smile in spite of myself. "Leila."

I almost jump out of my chair. He didn't bark at me or anything, but I wasn't expecting him to address me in any way. Usually when L is figuring something out, he talks to himself… a lot. But now he's talking to me? "Yes?" I say suspiciously.

"Can you think of anyone to whom Light may have bestowed the notebook?" L lowers from his crouch and puts one foot on the floor to spin his chair in my direction. To be honest, it makes me sort of uncomfortable that I'm in the spotlight, so to speak.

"I don't know that Light was particularly close to anyone at the college besides you and me," I answer finally. "He never talked to his… er, fanclub, so I don't think they'd count."

L nods, apparently waiting for me to continue. He evidently expects me to know every detail of Light's social life, but I'm not the type and never have been. "I don't know of anyone who was vehemently pro-Kira at To-Oh, either. Not anyone that Light had high regard for, anyways." Again, I get a horrible feeling that I'm missing something clear, but what is it?

"Honestly, I'm unsure of my classmates' views of Kira myself, and I never spoke to most of Light's friends," adds L, and I'm surprised that I'm not in trouble. I sort of expected to get the cold shoulder. "I suppose that leaves us with no other option. I have some classes tomorrow, as does Leila. We'll go to To-Oh and make and effort to speak with Light's circle of friends." L sounds as if he's in pain, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Wait, why do you have Leila's schedule memorized?" asks Matsuda.

It takes me a nanosecond to come to the conclusion that Matsuda is suggesting that we're lovers, and that L memorized my schedule for that very reason. As cheesy as it is, it does make sense, and I'm relieved when L speaks up. "I am responsible for coordinating Leila's rides to and from To-Oh. I have also taken it upon myself to inform Leila's teachers when she is absent, making it vital that I have her schedule in mind." I nod my silent assent, and relief, for that matter.

"Matsuda, this is real life, not some stupid romance movie!" snaps Aizawa, and Matsuda hangs his head in shame.

Strange how little time it took for everything to go back to normal.

* * *

Going to the university with 'Hideki Ryuga' and without Light feels almost wrong. Throughout the entirety of my college experience, Light has been there. L just shows up now and then, whenever it benefits him. I have a bad feeling that his being here for a full day, with _me_, may raise some nasty rumors.

"What do you mean, you have all the same classes as me?" I ask, glancing over at L, who is crouching on the far right seat of the limo. I sit on the far right, but I'm tired enough that I'm stretched out and taking up a good half of the backseat. I could fall asleep like this if L wasn't acting in his usual outlandish way.

"You are studying criminology. So am I," he answers simply.

"Are you sure you didn't have your schedule changed?" I question, raising both eyebrows and sitting up, so I can place my hands on my hips. I'm still supposed to be under constant watch, so I wouldn't put it past him.

"No, my schedule has been the same from the beginning. I simply refrained from attending most of my classes."

"That's very badass of you."

"Your use of sarcasm suggests that you want something, or that something is wrong. I find the latter more likely, Leila," L says, perceptive as ever. "What is it?"

"You're showing up for all of your classes, and you share them all with me," I answer, and lean my head against the window. I'm certain that should speak for itself. As little as I care about the opinions of others, I still don't appreciate the potential of someone claiming that I'm cheating on Light. I have a feeling that being called a slut when I'm still a virgin wouldn't go over well with me. My temper can be quite dreadful sometimes.

L has been rather quiet, and I look up at him expectantly. It's relatively shocking to see the he's looking at me the same way. "Yes, I've already confirmed that," he answers finally.

"I can't believe I have to walk you through this," I sigh, pressing the palm of my hand into the left of my face, removing it, and facing L again. His face is rather blank now, but I think that I can see confusion flashing across his face. "You only ever attended one or two classes before, and that was Psychology, when Light was around." I pause, partially for effect, and partially in the hopes that L is coming to the same conclusion as me. "Now, Light, my boyfriend, is not at school. I am. Suddenly, you begin to attend all of your classes. Not only that, but our schedules are exactly the same."

L finally seems to be getting something. His lips part slightly and he begins to chew on his thumb, which usually means that he's thinking very hard or is upset about something. "So… your concern is that our classmates may believe that you are partaking in intercourse with me when you are supposed to be dating Light?"

We hit a speed bump and I let my head bang against the window. "Why must you be so dreadfully blunt?" I groan, my cheeks turning a pale shade of pink. "I never mentioned sex, either," I scold, although it did come as a second thought for me as well.

"But… it was implied, yes?"

"Just… stop talking. Now."

The rest of the ride to To-Oh is quiet, but I can practically feel L radiating satisfaction. He enjoys aggravating me far too much - and, of all people, I developed a crush on _him_.

It would make any rumors twice as difficult to bear.

* * *

"I would like some cake," L says in the middle of class. I glance up at him and raise my eyebrows. His voice is quiet, but it's still disruptive enough that a gaggle of girls glance back at him.

"It's the middle of class," I hiss. "You'll have to wait." His wide-eyed face quickly tells me that he didn't mean for that to be audible. It's too bad for him, I suppose. I look down at my notes and continue scribbling the professor's every word, and L continues staring at the people around the room. I must admit that I almost envy him. He knows all of this so well that he hardly need to put any effort into his classes.

The girls stare at me, now, and I suppose they're confused for good reason. They're likely wondering where Light is. Light has had perfect attendance in the past, and for him to be absent is very strange. Their stares hit me off and on throughout class, and it's a relief to get up when we do.

"We can get cake now," L proclaims, holding my wrist. He's basically dragging me around and I decide that cake is the only reason L will ever walk with purpose.

"Let go, that hurts," I complain, although it doesn't, really. The simple fact of the matter is that I don't like being dragged around. It's unpleasant, and I feel as if I'm some dog on a leash.

"It doesn't," L answers matter-of-factly and continues to lead me by the wrist. "I'm sure it appears out of the ordinary, though…" _Jesus, is he going to hold my hand? I'm not sure that I want that in the present environment…_

L releases my wrist and I rub on it with the fingers of my other hand, scowling at him. He's been quite the character today. It's hard not to wonder why he's acting so difficult. It may be because he doesn't want to be here. L has never come off as the most social creature, and I doubt he's at all enthusiastic about mingling with our classmates.

"Whatever. You better be paying for this," I mutter, dropping into a seat just inside of the local cafe. I don't intend to get anything, but I don't think L bothered to bring a wallet. I suppose it's because he's used to Watari picking up all the food he'll ever need, but I've never even seen him with a wallet that actually belongs to him.

I lean my head into my arms, and, as I expected, L coughs at me. "I don't have my wallet."

"Of course you don't," I agree, shaking my head as I stand back up. I lower my voice into a whisper and find myself asking a very unprofessional question: "Do you even _have _a wallet?"

"No…" answers L as we walk to the display case. It's full of cakes, pastries, and doughnuts, and I find myself tempted to take one for myself, as well. "Watari always takes care of any purchases, so I have no need to carry a wallet. If I know that I will need money, I simply carry it with me."

"Okay, that makes sense, I guess," I say, even though I truly think it's a bit silly. Especially now that L goes outside on occasion, it would make sense for him to carry some cash and a fake ID, at least. I know he has his student ID on him, but it's still not a wallet. "Anyways, I'm taking that slice of chocolate cake on the bottom shelf, so you know." It is much to my amusement that I find the taller, wiser man pouting at this, and I shake my head at his antics.

At that moment, L steps up, and I expect him to give the cashier a long list of sugary foods for him to chow down on in the next half-hour or so. Instead, he simply looks at the slice of chocolate cake on the bottom shelf and asks the cashier if they have a whole cake that isn't on display.

She looks at the two of us, and by the look in her eyes, she's wondering why the hell the two of us want an entire cake to ourselves. She's unnaturally thin and her entire body screams "Liposuction", so I suppose it isn't really a shock. "Er… yes. I'll be just a moment," she answers finally, and the minute she turns her back, L's long fingers pluck my wallet from my left pocket. His hand brushes past my side in the process, and I flush slightly.

"So why do we need an entire cake?" I ask, glaring at him. After all, it's my money we're using and the food here isn't exactly cheap.

L waits to answer until the cashier takes a wad of my money and then forks over a marvelous looking cake. He stares through the clear plastic sheet on the top of the box with anticipation, and as we walk back to a seat, he finally responds. "You said you wanted a slice."

"Yes, I did," I answer, now seeing exactly where this is going. "But you just bought an entire cake with my money. I'll be eating more than one slice, you know." Much to my surprise, L flicks his tongue out at me, and my eyes open wide with shock. _The hell was that? I knew he was childish, but it seems he knows no bounds._

Unfortunately, L did that at exactly the wrong moment. I watch his grey eyes go from playful and trained on my stunned face to solemn and glancing over my shoulder. I notice that what was previously the shadow of a smile, though, is still present. Evidently, someone is behind me.

"Leila, where's Light?" asks the ringleader of the Light Yagami Fan Club, Kiyomi Takada. I turn slightly and meet her eyes. As usual, she looks beautiful, and probably much closer to Light's standards than I am. Her hair is neatly combed, her makeup perfectly applied, as per usual. Her wardrobe is on the expensive side, too.

"He's ill today, Takada," I answer, ignoring the fact that she's referred to me by my first name without asking first. We certainly aren't friends, and as much as I would appreciate some respect from Miss To-Oh, I won't get it. There's no use arguing about it.

"He's missed all of his classes for some time now," she points out, her voice level. She places one hand on her hip, and glares at me down her perfect nose.

"Unfortunately, Light has contracted mono and may not be in school for a while," L says, saving me from coming up with a legitimate excuse at the last minute. Takada looks at him with a level of disgust and I roll my eyes. She thinks everyone else is dirt and she's some kind of queen; frankly, I've grown to hate her.

Kiyomi does not miss my reaction to her aloof attitude and fixes me with an ugly look that I can describe only as hatred equal to mine. "Light was with another girl at the beginning of the school year," she tells me, and watches carefully for my reaction.

Since I'm still playing his girlfriend, I make an effort to look frazzled, and I meet her eyes in an effort to convey my 'jealousy'. "What girl?" I snap, standing up and placing my hands on my hips.

"Why don't you guess?" laughs Kiyomi. "Not that it was me, or anything."

"Ladies, if you would please regain your composure," L interrupts, and I jump. He's pulled another one of his disappear-here-and-reappear-there acts, and he's right behind me. "It would be unfortunate for us to disrupt the peaceful environment of this cafe."

"Okay," I answer, pretending to regain the cool I never lost and sitting down. "Thanks for informing me, Takada. I'll discuss that with Light the next time I see him."

Much to my disdain, L quickly develops another brilliant idea. "Would you care to join us, Miss Takada?" he asks, glancing at me. In the moment we meet eye contact, I recognize that this is an excellent opportunity. Even if Light never seemed to like her much, Kiyomi was always around. In fact, I had no doubt that Kiyomi was referring to herself when she mentioned the 'other girl' Light went out with during the beginning of our relationship.

"Well, I suppose I don't have anything better to do right now," Kiyomi says, and sits down in the booth next to me. No doubt she sees this as a chance to talk about my relationship with Light. I don't bother offering her any cake as I know she'd never take it. She's like the cashier; God forbid her perfect body be ruined. Instead, I get a slice for myself, the size of which pales in comparison to the portion that L is shoving onto his plate. I watch Kiyomi's look of disgust grow and resist the urge to hit her. It's not as if L is obese or even overweight. He's obviously quite lean, and maybe even muscular. Actually, I'm certain that he has nice legs, simply because he crouches in that bizarre way all of the time.

"You two have been spending a lot of time together," Kiyomi notes as she watches L scarf down his cake.

"Yes, we are friends," I answer cautiously, not sure what exactly she's trying to suggest.

L swallows a huge bite of cake in one go and uses a napkin to rub off the chocolate on his lips. "How are your classes, Miss Takada?" he asks, as if he wishes to change the subject as quickly as humanly possible.

"They're going well. How are yours…?" she tilts her head, clearly asking his name. As if she doesn't know - Hideki Ryuga, Light, and Kira have been all anyone at To-Oh could talk about since the beginning of the year.

Still, L manages his normal semi-politeness. "Hideki Ryuga. I've been doing excellently," he answers, and I have to grin at the bragging he hardly tried to cover. L is better than Kiyomi Takada and all three of us know it; there's really no point in hiding the fact of the matter.

I watch the corners of Kiyomi's perfect lips lift slightly, and she looks as if she's about to chastise the two of us. "That's to be expected of one of the two top freshman. I've heard that you weren't coming to class, though. Were you and Light arguing?" My brown eyes meet L and I'm sure he can see the single message I want to convey: _I told you so._

L seems to ignore me and continues in his dull monotone. "No, I simply had a schedule that conflicted with that of the school. Why, Miss Takada?" he questioned, casually holding his fork over his now empty cake plate.

Kiyomi's mouth forms a perfect 'O' as her eyes lock onto mine. She's trying to look shocked, but really, she looks quite pleased. "Did you and Light break up? You and Ryuga must be _exclusive _now!"

"What makes you think that, Takada?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"The signs are all there. You're coming to class for _her, _aren't you?" Kiyomo exclaims, sounding quite pleased with the situation. I want to bury my face in my arms and die, but that doesn't seem to be an option. Ryuga looks completely unfazed, and I must match him. "I won't tell anyone if you want to keep it secret."

Much to my surprise, L has something to say to that. "That would be best, Miss Takada."

The thrill on her face only grows, and I find myself thinking that it's actually quite ugly. "I'd like to invite you to a party this evening. A lot of Light's friends will be there, and I'm sure you both know them, right?" She grabs a napkin and scribbles an address and a time on it with a pen I didn't even know she had. Then, she struts off without waiting for an answer. After all, who'd dare turn her down.

"When she says 'party', what exactly does she mean?" asks L as he watches her go.

"How should I know? I haven't been to many pa - wait, are you thinking about going? And why did you tell her we were in an exclusive relationship?" I choked on the words as they exited my throat. I was desperately confused, and for once L's actions made little sense to me.

"Well, yes, we will attend the party," L declares, making the decision without a second thought. "In regard to your second question, I could see that Miss Takada was coming to the conclusion you so dreaded, and I thought that the rumors you were worried about may never come to be if she thinks you broke up with Light."

"Why would I be going out with you just because I broke up with Light?"

"It gave her a reason to invite us both to the party, correct?"

"... Yes, I suppose so…" I answer, slowly but honestly. "You know you can't dress like that for a party, right? And I probably shouldn't be dressed like this." Although I've never been to a party before, I've heard plenty about them. I know that people tend to dress in a slightly more… provocative manner, and that there's usually alcohol involved. I've never had alcohol before, and I doubt I could drink any around L since I'm underage.

"Mmm," answers L, looking very uncomfortable with the suggestion implied.

I, on the other hand, find myself struggling not to think that I may well be seeing L in some slightly better fitted clothing very soon.

* * *

L insisted upon researched what college-age people wear to parties. When I am issued my new outfit, I sorely regret ever suggesting that we dress differently. I've been granted a red push-up bra (It's pretty lacy, too. What kind of person does L think I am?) that just shows through the back crop top I'm to be wearing. And… booty shorts? _This is excellent. I'll look like a fucking whore…_

On the bright side, I am allowed to wear my standard mid-calf Converses. They're almost a comfort.

I'm not at all flat chested, but the push-up bra I now wear makes me look substantially bustier. I may as well have gotten a boob job. Besides that, even after I pull on the crop top, you can see the faint outline on the bra. The crop top sticks to my skin and does an excellent job of showing off my curves. In fact, it does its job too well, and when I put on the booty shorts, I feel like a slut and look the part. There's a three-inch section of stomach showing, my clothes are tighter than usual and my every asset is on display, as well as my every flaw.

I even have to do my hair. It takes a good hour with all the hair products a girl could ever want to straighten it out. I finally manage to part my hair on the far right side of my head, I use the iron to tame it, causing it to fall in straight layers down the side of my head. I proceed to scrunch it, simply because my hair won't stay straight no matter how much hair gel I use. I rebraid the section of white hair, which I recently bleached again. The braid, I think, will always remain the same.

I also apply makeup, but I do that sometimes anyways. A bit of mascara, eyeliner, and some pale pink lipstick is all I usually use, but L's insisted upon a brighter shade this time. _Yeah, _I think as I glare at my very hot reflection. _I look like a total slut._

I hear a knock on my door and look away from my reflection. It's Watari, and I do not want that poor old man to see me like this. The booty shorts alone aren't too big of a deal, but combined with the crop top…

I pull on a sweatshirt just as he enters, and he fails to comment on how I'm basically not wearing pants. Bless him. "Ryuzaki is ready to leave now," he announces, and I follow him to the elevator. I spend the way down feeling very, very awkward. Luckily, the elevator lets out very close to the exit of HQ, which means I just stand in a room with the other task force members for a few moments instead of walking past them. Luckily, most of them are married men and they sort of look away, but there's the identifiable sound of Aizawa getting on Matsu for staring at my ass. To be honest, I doubt that he was staring, but it's still embarrassing.

I get into the car as quickly as I can, hoping not to be seen by any pedestrians in spite of the fact that my sweatshirt covers the worst of it. Of course, getting into the car doesn't make the situation any better. There's another person gawking at me, and although I've grown used to his stare and usually don't mind it, I feel wary of it this time. Before he can say anything, I remove my sweatshirt and place it between the two of us, then I gaze out the window.

Two minutes later, I am still being stared at. "Couldyoustopthat?" I ask as quickly as is possible as I glance to my right.

_I was right! He is pretty damn muscular!_

L is still dressed far more casually than I am, but he's brushed his hair just enough that it looks to be styled in it usual bedhead fashion on purpose. His jeans are darker and less baggy, and he's forced himself into a pair of black Converses - probably without socks, or course. His slightly tighter jeans force him into sitting properly, and he looks rather uncomfortable, but his back is still hunched. That, of course, brings my attention to his shirt, which is white and made of a material that has a slight shine to it. Better yet, it's sort of skin tight, and on the occasion that he moves, I can see muscles rippling beneath his shirt. _Lucky guy - he looks hot, but not like a man-whore._

"You're doing exactly the same thing to me," he mutters, and I turn my face away in order to blush in peace. There's no point in arguing with L. I always know when he says childish things like that.

* * *

Walking into the location of the party, I decide that showing up is the worst mistake I've ever made. Honestly, I should have refused to come. The air smells strongly of alcohol. It brings back some awful memories, but I'm almost sad that I won't be trying any. There's loud music that's causing the floor to vibrate. I know that the place will be an absolute mess by morning, and feel a twinge of sympathy for the student who's hosting this at her apartment.

I have an awful hunch that Kiyomi is going to pounce on us the first chance she gets, but I don't see her. She probably has some boy all over her by now. L and I were a half-hour late, so…

"Ryuga?" I hiss, glancing behind me. L has stopped in his tracks to eye all of the PDA that's taking place. Really, it's as if he's never seen anything like it before, which I mark as strange. I'm sure he's at least watched a porno before, as unrealistic as those may be.

"Is that really how a couple is supposed to behave?" he asks, sticking two fingers in his mouth and thoughtfully chewing his nails. He's observing a boy who has a girl pinned against the wall. They're kissing quite passionately, and the boy is groping the girl's chest through her shirt.

"Sort of," I say, snorting. It's as if he doesn't realize how creepy it is to stare at a couple like that. I link my fingers in his, purely for the sake of acting, of course, and begin to drag him away. "Ryuga, let's go."

"I'm not sure if behavior such as that is appropriate for a public place," L answers, his mind apparently still on the couple occupied with eating each others' faces.

"It's not, really, but it is expected at a party like this." I smirk suddenly, realizing what's making him so nervous. "Are you regretting telling Kiyomi that we're a couple now?"

"At the time, I wasn't aware that we would be expected to make love in the front room of someone else's home," he responds cautiously. As if he doesn't want to injure my feelings. A few people bump into us as we walk into the real location of the party. I'm not sure if this is the dining room or the living room, but it's full of people. Some girls in the corner are dancing to the music blasting from the stereos, but most people are just chatting absently as they drink themselves silly. I don't see a single person who lacks a solo cup.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey," says a very drunk brunette guy, giving me a sloppy smile and leaning into the counter. He puts a hand on my shoulder, which shocks me just enough that I don't pull away. "Wassa preddy gurlike yooooooou doin with ut a driiink?" I feel something brush past my shoulder and hear a smacking noise, and the drunk brunette gives an angry and confused look over my shoulder. I quickly realize that L must have pushed his hand away, and I sigh with relief. Drinks themselves are one thing, but drunk people touching me is… well, it's different.

"What do you think you're doing? Get your hands off my girl," L monotones, but still manages to sound threatening to the drunk boy, who retreats into the crowd. _My girl? _I want to blush in embarrassment and the feeling only deepens when his arms wrap around my stomach and pull me close. Actually, not only do I feel as is I'm going to go red, but I actually do. _Does he know what he's doing to me? Probably not…_

"Have you seen Kiyomi yet?" I ask, leaning into his embrace. My pulses skyrockets as I feel the smooth muscles in his abdomen and chest through my thin top, and I feel my breath go short. He's distracting me, and I shouldn't allow that to happen when we came here for a purpose.

"No," he answers, and I feel his chin brushing the top of my head as he turns his. "I was expecting her to be here, but perhaps I was wrong, or she's somewhere else in the house."

"You two want drinks?" asks a random voice. The voice shows no signs of belonging to a drunkard, so I suppose they're a designated driver. Without giving either of us a chance to answer, a girl with dark brown hair and a tall, willowy body places two cans of beer on the counter next to us. She grins at our closeness and walks away, disappearing into the crowd.

I stare at the cans of beer apprehensively. I definitely want to try one, although I can't say I have high expectations, and I probably shouldn't consider breaking the law when L's here watching me. "I'll go get cups, then," my 'date' says in his monotone, much to my astonishment. I feel his hold around my stomach slip away, and watch him as he slinks into a different room for cups. _His legs look really, really nice in those jeans… and I swear I can see the muscles in his shoulders moving… _Great. I'm not even under the influence yet and I've already cracked.

I pick up one of the cans of beer. It's heavy in my grasp, and I can feel the liquid inside of it moving with my arm. Can an innocent liquid really be the evil? No… the people who drink it are the evil, cause the evil. What will be the consequences of my drinking tonight? As curious as I am, I don't want to be like my mom.

I'm not given much time to think about it, because in no time at all, L is back by my side with two solo cups. They're full of ice, presumably to dilute the beer. L looks pretty uncertain as he pours our drinks, and I decide that he's probably not a heavy drinker himself. After all, I'm sure L is very aware of the fact that alcohol inhibits your mental capacity, and being the world's greatest detective, that isn't a good thing.

"Uh, Ryuga," I mutter, and lean my head into his arm. It looks like an affectionate thing that a girlfriend would do, but at this point I just need his attention. "Maybe you've forgotten, but I'm underage."

"I know," he answers, pushing my cup a little closer to me, "but we will not fit in with the rest of the company if we don't at least have something."

I pick up the cup and glance at the liquid. It looks gross, and the smell coming from it is repulsive, but I take a sip of it anyways. It is the most horrible taste I have ever experienced, and it doesn't feel pleasant going down my throat. Still, I take another swallow before placing the cup back on the bar. _I can hardly take two swallows of that stuff and I'm expected to down a whole can. No wonder I didn't go to parties before, I really wasn't missing much._

L hasn't had much of his either, but doesn't miss the chance to comment on what he must perceive as some kind of failure. "Have you never had an alcoholic beverage before?"

"No, not really," I answer. "Not unless you count Communion wine." I'm not religious but I went to Mass with my mom once. She told me God was going to help her stop drinking, or something. Guess not.

"I suppose that's a good thing, considering your age," L responds finally. I take another couple of swallows of my drink and stare at the counter. I've suddenly realized how close we are, and it's giving me the same incredibly cheesy butterflies in my stomach that are described in romance novels. L isn't even tensing at the comment, which leads me to wonder exactly how long alcohol takes to 'loosen you up'.

"HEY!" screams a girl, and I jump at the loudness of her voice. "Anybody up for Spin the Bottle?"

"Only if it's the stripper version!" yells a voice opposite her. Crowds of people gather in that area, and I shake my head.

"I'm not playing that," I say, and move away from the crowd.

"Stripper spin the bottle?" he mutters, confused.

"I'm not sure exactly what the 'stripper' part means for the game, but it doesn't some good," I insist, and I notice that L, like me, has left his beer sitting on the counter, and, like me, his can is completely drained. I don't remember drinking that much, but I suppose I was stressed. "And I don't like the idea of kissing people at random, anyways."

I hear L grunt his agreement as we enter the makeout room. There's been enough time for some other couples to get drunk and the already present couples to get more drunk, and there are more people.

"Ryuga, I haven't recognized anyone here. I haven't seen any of these people around Light, ever," I announce after a couple of moments, and I watch him dip his head in recognition.

"I'll have Watari come and pick us up, then," L says, taking out his phone, hitting a single button, and putting it back into his pocket. "He should be here within twenty minutes. Until then, we should…" I look at his eyes, and notice his gaze shifting between the couples.

"We can go back to the other room," I suggest, but L is already headed in that direction. He's linked his arm with mine, and I have no choice but to follow, anyways. He leads me back to our place at the counter, where our empty cups still sit. I glance to the corner, where everyone besides a few stragglers (us included) sit in a circle. A few people are missing clothes and some are stripped down to their underwear. Not that it's entirely unexpected.

I feel a sudden surge of gratefulness that I came here with L. At least I can trust him not to get me too drunk. Still, that can of beer I had earlier does seem to be taking effect. My bones radiate warmth, and my mood isn't a bad one in spite of our seemingly pointless mission.

Besides that, I don't think L is a heavy drinker, either.

I know, because ten minutes later, we both clamber into the backseat of him limousine. We have no reason to act like a couple now, but before I can slide away from L like I usually do, his strong arm wraps around my waist and one hand is placed comfortably on my thigh. L isn't stoned, of course, but he's drunk enough that my skimpy clothes are getting to him. I want to shove him away, because I know this will be an awkward memory come morning and sanity, but the happier part of my mind reminds me how much I like his touch.

L's hand starts rubbing on my thigh, and I lean my head into his shoulder. I could fall asleep like this. His hands, so warm, so soft, one on the waist and one sliding against the soft skin of my leg, feel better than I could have imagined. I've felt his grip on my wrists, or the gentle touch of his fingers on my hands, but never anything like this. And… this… will probably never happen again. After all, can L truly be marked as the affectionate type? I can't imagine him wanting to touch me without the help of some drug, and one beer won't get us much further than appropriate touching.

If it ever gets any further than that, I don't want it to be because we're drunk or drugged anyways.

_I really am setting myself up for hell,_ I think as my slightly drunken mind allows my to plant a small kiss on his jaw. _I can't let myself want the impossible, and L is certainly the impossible._

But I know, and I've always known, that people have a tendency to want the impossible, and that I am no exception.

* * *

**Woah. 9300 words? Can anyone say "overboard"?**

**Thanks for all the responses to my last chapter! I'm glad you all liked it (:**

**I don't have time to respond to all my reviewers yet, sorry! But I do want to reassure you that there's plenty of story left to go.**

**Also... I never did insert the last part of "Highway to Hell". I wonder why... c;**

**Also, sorry if any of you dress like Leila did for the party and felt offended. The reason she feels slutty wearing those clothes are because she's kind of innocent, sexually speaking xD**


	17. Fault

It doesn't come as a surprise to hear that the party Kiyomi invited us to got busted. That's probably why Kiyomi wasn't there, to be honest. I never thought she'd pull such a childish trick, though. Pulling a stunt that could have caused both L and myself to be in trouble with the law over Light is ridiculous.

I retain the opinion that Kiyomi is an unintelligent bitch, to tell the truth. It's an opinion I have had since I met her, and I always do. Her feelings of superiority are quite stupid and she's clearly not the kind of woman that would make a good authority figure, but she still manages to rule the campus of To-Oh.

In fact, I hate Kiyomi Takada so much that I begin to think along the same lines as L.

"I spoke to many young people at the party and none of them were in any way connected to Light," he mentions the next day, his voice laced with frustration.

"What a waste of a night," I comment. "Was there anyone at the university?" _Kiyomi. Kiyomi worships Light, and I daresay she'd do just about anything. But I never really talked to her, so I'm not sure if she's pro-Kira…_

"There's a small chance that Kiyomi Takada is acting as Kira right now," L answers, biting his lip. Since he hasn't given me a percentage, I assume that the chance is almost miniscule. Nonexistent. From what I've come to understand, L only starts saying percentages when they're very high, almost certain, in his mind. I've also decided that the percentages he gives are absolute nonsense. "Her behavior suggests that she is very infatuated with Light, and she is very devoted to impressing him. She also seems to be intelligent enough to act as Kira…" I accept the final part of his statement only hesitantly. Kiyomi's grades seem to show intelligence, but it is my opinion that grades have nothing to do with how intelligent you are.

"You can't arrest her like you did Light, though. If To-Oh's top students keep taking leave left and right, it will attract attention," I point out. This makes the situation twice as difficult; the only other way we can prove with certainty that Kiyomi is killing is by finding Light's Death Note in her home. That won't be as easy as searching Light's home because Kiyomi still lives with her parents, and they aren't connected to the investigation like Light's father was.

"I suppose we will have to keep a close eye on her then," decides L. "We will start by placing bugs in her home. Leila, you and I only will keep a close eye on her in order to preserve her integrity." It seems that L does have some moral code after all. He's not going to let the whole task force gawk at her while she showers…

The idea freshens my anger at L. It's not as strong as it was, but it's still there. I will be doing the same thing to Kiyomi Takada that so upset me when L did it to me. Not that he's stopped.

Still, I remind myself, calming quickly, that it's necessary. People are dying, and keeping watch over Kiyomi could prevent further deaths. Besides, I don't wish to go through the painful experience of warming up to L all over again. Especially now that I've realized my affections for him, however slight, the last thing I want is to get into an argument with him. In fact, I didn't _like _arguing with him even when I was oblivious to my feelings.

L and I sit on opposite sofas in my room, or, more accurately, my story of the new building. The sofas are probably the most wonderful things I've ever had the pleasure of sitting in. They're soft and plush, and the fabric that covers them is a beautiful deep red velvet. Still, L looks rather uncomfortable. It's the first time in a while that I've willingly let him into my "room", but I'm not even sure if that's the source of the awkwardness.

He stirs another sugar cube into his drink and stares into the darkness of his cup of coffee. I watch his throat move as he swallows, and lifts the cup to his lips. _He's nervous about something, _I think as he sets the cup down without drinking anything. "I… wish to apologize for my behavior in the car last night," he says finally, and for once his eyes fail to meet mine.

So _that's _the source of the awkwardness. I almost laugh before responding; I have no doubt that L was more drunk that I had suspected. Otherwise he wouldn't be apologizing about continuing the boyfriend act longer than was needed; he'd be pretending it hadn't happened. Or he would continue it. "It's quite alright. You don't drink much, do you?"

"None, actually," L answers, and the only sign of relief is that he is finally able to make eye contact. "Alcohol loosens a person's inhibitions and lessens the ability to think clearly. That is in no way beneficial to me."

I suppose that the lucky thing is that my sobriety is now back, and I don't long for another situation like that. If L is ever to touch me again, I would want it to be while he _was _thinking clearly. "No, it's not," I agree. "As it is, I had to choke that stuff down. It smells so repulsive I can hardly understand how a person is tempted to drink it in the first place." It is only a sign of my continuing good luck that I have no idea how much worse it tastes coming back up. Besides a headache, I didn't really suffer from any hangover. I suppose I didn't drink enough to truly suffer from it.

I expect L to explain why, exactly, someone would be tempted to have a beer in spite of how clearly disgusting it is. After all, it is his way to act rather smartass. Instead, though, he simply nods his head and takes a sip of his coffee. The strange tensity between the two of us is gone - and good riddance to it - and this silence is much more tolerable than the ones that preceded it. "We will continue to attend To-Oh on a regular basis," L adds after polishing off his coffee.

"That means we both have classes today," I answer, rising from my spot.

"Yes. You'll need to be ready within a half-hour," L answers, not riding from his spot. He knows he doesn't need to; I'm already dressed and it's not as if I actually brush my hair every morning.

"I _am _ready," I reply smartly.

"You aren't wearing shoes," L points out, gesturing at my feet.

"You aren't either," I shoot back, pulling a pair of ankle-length socks from my drawers. L gives the socks a distasteful look and I roll my eyes. I have caught on to his bizarre hatred of them, and it's quite amusing. I slide them on my feet and pull on a pair of bright green slip-on Converses I bought with yen that a certain _someone _continually slips into my purse. I'm not sure what it is - hush money? Compensation? Payment for my work? All I know for sure is that my collection of shoes and books has rapidly expanded.

"Shoes are uncomfortable," he protests, "and they interfere with my ability to sit properly."

"Properly?" I ask, glancing over my shoulder and giving him a mischievous grin.

"Yes, properly," L says, and I admire the way that his lips turn up ever-so-slightly, but enough to disrupt the usual blankness of his face.

"The way you usually sit is called 'crouching'. It isn't proper," I insist, relishing the chance to exasperate him at least a little. I fling open the door to the hallway and step into the elevator. I hear L following me; his feet drag against the floor when he walks, so the sound is easily distinguishable from that of the other task force members.

"It doesn't matter if it is truly proper," is L's rebuttal. I laugh; he's given up. "It raises my deductive abilities by forty percent. That alone makes 'crouching' well worth it." Much to L's frustration, which is becoming more clear by the second, I laugh again. Our childish arguments never cease to annoy and amuse me at the same time.

Of course, behavior such as this lasts only as long as the two of us are out of sight. The second we enter the room where Watari stands waiting for us, we settle into our usual comforting silence. "You're both early," he comments as we walk out to the car. I'm unsure of why he thinks this is worth commenting on, but I choose to ignore it. L and I slide into the backseat of the limo as usual, and the door closes on us.

* * *

When we arrive at To-Oh, L and I walk side by side to our classes. When we first get out of the limousine, it catches the attention of several students, who, I know, will quickly begin to spread the word. _Hey, did you hear? That girl who Light Yagami went out with for a while just came out of Hideki Ryuga's car!_

Still, I can't say I mind the stares. I never have. Everywhere I go, I'm somewhat of a freak. Sometimes it's because of my grades, or how blatantly psychopathic I can be at times. Sometimes it was because people knew that I had lost family. Other times, the stares were because of the cuts that would appear on my face and arms - cuts that weren't self-inflicted.

For once, I'm getting stared at for a good reason. It's because I've got a man next to me, and a famously clever one at that. Even if we aren't really going out like we have to pretend, it stills feels special to walk next to him. Almost safe, really. Secure.

I still have to remind myself that once the Kira case is over, I won't see L anymore. The security will be gone, so I shouldn't get used to it. It's a hard thing to admit to myself, but I know that there's a difference between Disney movies and real life. L would never risk his security to be around a woman, and if he did, it wouldn't be me. Reality is a truly harsh thing, but I decide that it is better to face it than live some idealistic fantasy that will only be ripped from me in the end.

I suddenly wonder if I should be upset that we walk with our elbows touching and smile at eachother and play at affection. I wonder if I should be angry… because it's all an act. Of course, my first instinct is to feel a mixture of anger and sadness, because what the rest of the world sees is unreal. The two of us are not together and we never will be. On the other hand, the idea of such closeness is appealing, even if it's unreal. Emotions are so confusing to me that it's maddening. I don't know how the rest of the world deals with them.

I suddenly wonder if I could somehow seduce L. Of course, the same methods I use on Light would never work; the submissiveness and stupidity of the character would never appeal to L. I would try dressing differently, but that would be far too obvious. If I suddenly began to clothe myself in a more feminine style, it would be clear enough that I was trying to get someone's attention. That, of course, is not what I want.

I could, perhaps, try at wearing makeup more often, but I can't see that changing much of anything. I could even try to be charming instead of a bitchy smartass all of the time. That, though, would also be dreadfully obvious. Besides, I am very likely incapable of being very sweet for too long.

Then, very suddenly, my very stupidest idea pops into my head. _The way to a man's heart is his stomach. _L is always eating something sugary. It's been a long time since I baked, but what if I made a chocolate pie or something? That would get his attention, even if it was just temporary. I suppose you could call baking an attempt at being charming…

Whatever I decide to do, I know that I should probably focus on current events. This is brought to my attention even more so when a slightly familiar girl. She's short, and her black hair is cut so that the tips go just past her chin. The girl is glaring at me, and I suddenly realize that she is the girl who is so hopelessly infatuated with L. Like me, but longer.

"Excuse me a moment," L says and walks away. _What awful timing, _I think as I watch him head to the bathrooms. Needless to say, it isn't a shock to me when the short girl walks up to me with her friend, who has wavy dark brown hair. She's giving me a look that says _I'm so, so sorry. _

The girl puts on a fake smile, but I can see a frightening level of madness in her eyes. "Hi! I'm Kyoko!" she squeaks. Her voice is a high pitched mess, and it's full of rage.

"I'm -"

"Leila, I know!" exclaims Kyoko, looking me up and down. "You're Ryuga's girlfriend." The way she says 'Ryuga' makes me want to laugh; it's so full of jealousy, but she doesn't understand the truth of the situation.

Still, I manage to give her a simple smile, small but innocent. "Yes, it's nice to meet you."

"Someone said that they saw you getting out out of Ryuga's car. With Ryuga," she snaps, getting right to the point. Her tense shoulder, turned-down eyebrows and clenched jaw gives away her anger.

"Erm, yeeees," I answer, unsure of where exactly she's going with this. I shuffle on my feet a little, feeling suddenly anxious and unsure. Kyoko looks like she's being pushed over the boiling point.

"So you live with him now?" she asks. _Holy shit. That's one helluva jump. _I feel my eyes widen slightly. Technically I am living with L, but now that the two of us are 'dating', I suppose the word will get out. It already has. I cringe to think of the implications behind this rumor, especially since L will surely catch on to them soon.

"Yes, I do," I say proudly, holding my head up.

"That's… good for you, then!" whisper-yells an angry Kyoko. Her friend gives her a sympathetic glance as they stomp away. It's funny to think that someone is jealous of me. That isn't something I'm used to, but I've now experienced it twice: once with Kiyomi and now again with Kyoko. Is this what 'dating' is always like? Even if it's not real?

"Who was that?" asks L, who had apparently come back while I was watching Kyoko walk off.

"Kyoko - a, uh, fan of yours," I answer hesitantly.

"Ah. Did she give you trouble?" he inquires, his hand gently touching my shoulder. I'm still not used to all the touching, but this is pleasant and I let it continue. I sometimes notice that L has a certain level of possessiveness; he makes it very clear what, and who, is his. I notice that he's very protective of the task force members, including me. I know that some people would be upset, and say that showing that level of 'ownership' towards a person is wrong, but I like it most of the time. There are some bad things about it, though. For instance, L sometimes forgets the basic rules of personal space, or he just doesn't follow them because he feels that he has a certain level of ownership over people.

But this isn't him disrespecting my personal space. It's different. It's like when a friend hugs you. Friendly contact. Positive.

"Not really," I answer. "She just wanted to know if I was living with you."

This earns a silence from L until he finally questions, "You said yes? I need to know so we can keep our story consistent."

"Yes, I did," I assure him, nodding. "Not that it really matters. I'm fairly certain that's what everyone's decided is the case, anyways, so nothing I said would change their minds."

"I suppose not," answers L, who glances around at our fellow students as if he is suspicious of them and then continues walking.

* * *

"Are you really telling me that, in spite of the hundreds of cakes you've consumed during your time here _alone_, you don't know how to bake one?" I'm standing in the entryway to the kitchen, my mouth slightly agape, my eyes widen with surprise. Firstly, I've just discovered something that L doesn't know. And secondly, that "something" has to do with cake.

"_Making _cake is something that has never been useful to my profession," answers L, somewhat taken aback by my reaction.

I shake my head, as if I am disappointed. I hear him following me as I walk into the kitchen and scowl. When L saw me entering the kitchen, he had asked what I was doing, and then complained about the lack of cake, brownies, or pastries. "Watari hasn't had time to purchase any more because of the investigation…" L'd whined, trying desperately to make it sound like and explanation.

Since I had planned on making him something sweet at some point anyways, I had said that I'd make some cake if he wanted to, even though I hadn't been planning on it. That, of course, had been a lie. I had been provided with a monotone 'yes' and then L had asked if he could stay and watch. "I have never observed the process of cake baking," he had explained, much to my surprise.

There's only one cake recipe that I have memorized by heart: mocha cake. It has a metric ton of ingredients, but luckily the huge kitchen HQ houses has all of them. I'm very aware of L staring at me as I rifle through drawers and cabinets. It's sort of unpleasant simply because I'm struggling to focus. Still, it's only moments before I've got everything gathered on the counter.

"What kind of cake is this?" L questions quizzically, eying the instant coffee sitting with all of the other ingredients.

"Mocha," I answer, hoping that it isn't to his dissatisfaction. I'm sure he'd prefer something involving fruit or strawberries in particular, but I myself am a chocolate person. Those are the only recipes I bother to pay attention to.

"Okay," he answers, and I think he's going to let the silence continue until he adds, "The coffee is caffeinated, correct?"

"Yes," I confirm, my voice suggesting that's quite possibly the stupidest question he's ever asked. Personally, I find decaf coffee to be the most abhorable invention of all time. Not only is it disgusting, but it's entirely pointless. Coffee lacks a purpose unless it's giving you energy.

I dumped several ingredients into a bowl and began the slow process of mixing them into a single smooth and perfect substance. I have always been picky; by the time I finish stirring several minutes will have passed. Still, the time put in means the cake will be perfect, and that is ultimately what will satisfy me.

I hear a shuffling behind me, and then L's voice. "May I try?" He sounds hesitant, as if he's afraid I'll say no. He's so childish sometimes. He's a genius, but I sometimes wonder if he ever managed to grow past his childhood. It's taken me months, but I've noticed that the outwardly courageous and clever man we call L can also be quite timid and fearful.

"What do you mean, can you try?" I ask, glancing back at him, confused. "I'm just stirring the batter. That isn't exactly something you have to work to master, so…"

"I want to help," L answers insistently, changing his words so that they mean more sense. _Stubborn bastard. _I _was supposed to be making this for _you.

"Fine," I cry out, stepping aside and granting him access to the bowlful of batter. It's halfway to being ready, and is a light brown color similar to that of milk chocolate. It smells of a mocha, sweet but bitter. Delectable. L only has to take a single step to get to the bowl, and I realize how close he'd been with my realizing it. He picks up the whisk as if it's a foreign object and begins stirring the cake batter so slowly I doubt he's making a difference. His brow furrows, and I again find myself thinking that he's no more than a determined child. He frowns slightly and begins whisking the batter more quickly.

"Stop," I command finally. "Don't overdo it." He places the whisk back into the bowl and takes a careful step back. This whole time, he's been behaving as if he thinks he'll damage something. I suppose this means he doesn't spend much time in the kitchen; it probably feels foreign to him here. I dump the mixture into the pan and put the pan in the oven.

"So now we just wait," L says, sounding almost disappointed. He leans against the counter and cocks his head slightly, and I notice that the bags under his eyes are darker than ever.

"No," I correct, and he meets my eyes in order to give me a confused glance. "Now, we clean out the bowl."

"You can do that," L responds. "I have a very limited enthusiasm for washing dishes."

"I didn't say anything about washing dishes," I answer, grabbing the whisk from the bowl. Creamy brown cake batter drips off of it, the strands connecting the whisk to the bottom of the bowl. _The only thing better than mocha cake batter is the finished cake, _I think before pulling myself up to sit on the counter and licking batter from the whisk.

"I thought you said you were cleaning the bowl," replies L, who is staring at me in a rather bizarre way. _No, he isn't staring at me. He's staring at my mouth. What the fuck? _

"I decided to take the whisk instead," I answer, feeling uncomfortable with the awareness that, for some reason, L's unceasing gaze is still fixed on my mouth.

"Does that mean I can 'clean out the bowl'?" L asks, and then removes the from the counter without giving me a moment to answer. He also takes the spatula from the paper towel it was sitting on and scrapes the sides of the bowl, covering the entirety of the spatula with batter. As usual, I am fascinated with the angle formed by L's jaws as he opens his mouth. I look away; _I_ certainly don't want to be caught staring at _him _like that, although I've done it plenty in the past.

"So has Kiyomi done anything incriminating?" I ask once all of the utensils and the bowl are 'clean'.

Much to my disappointment, L looks greatly depressed at the question. His hunch gets worse and he dips his head before looking me in the eyes. "No," he deadpans. "I've watched all of the footage we've collected of her so far. Takada hasn't done anything overtly suspicious. There's no one else to suspect, either… it appears that the investigation has come to a dead end."

"I'm sure that's not true," I ask, the corners of my mouth turning down. It's sad to see him like this. He's clearly very distressed, and that's made so clear simply by the fact that he's showing it. L doesn't make emotion like this known if he can avoid it, and he must be suffering from and awful depression if he isn't able to hide it. "I could talk to Light again. I'm sure that with a couple of more visits, I could convince him to tell me who…" My voice trails off. For some reason, that statement seems to have soured his mood even more, and I don't feel the need to continue.

"When the cake is done, please bring it downstairs," L orders as he walks away, leaving me baffled.

* * *

I hold a platter with the completed cake as I watch the floor number tick down. Since I'm on my own, I usually would have taken the stairs down as they're faster. However, I didn't want to risk it with the cake, which is iced with whipped vanilla frosting and decorated with cherries. It's a feeble hope, but perhaps something sweet will restore L to a better mood.

The elevator comes to a halt and I exit into the hallway. I tighten my grip on the platter as I move and walk into control. "She's here," someone says warily as I exit the elevator.

"Aizawa?" I say, raising my eyebrows. He nods towards L, who is sitting in front of the monitors as usual. I walk up to L and set the cake on the counter, as well as the paper plates I'd been holding underneath it. Without a single word, L takes a slice of cake and begins attacking it, eating the cake first and then putting the two cherries that had decorated it into his mouth. I'm in a state of confusion; he clearly wanted to speak with me about something, but all he's doing is lazily rolling the cherries in his mouth and staring absently at the monitors in front of him.

Finally, he sticks out his tongue and plucks the cherry stems from on top of it. They're tied, and I suddenly realize that's why his jaws were moving so strangely while he ate. _Tongue action, huh? _I think, and am glad that the monitors only produce a dim light. I'm worried that I'm blushing, although I can't say I'm sure. "Leila, we will watch all surveillance collected at the Takada household this evening."

I frown, expecting something else, but L only says, "That is all." I watch him cut another slice of cake and feel briefly rejected.

_What the hell does this guy want from me?_

* * *

L and I sit in very close proximity of each other for once. I can feel the warmth of another human body very close to mine, and I relish the tingling sensation in the center of my chest. L insisted that we watch all of the footage in the quiet of my room.

The footage is sped up quite a lot, but Kiyomi's clean. I haven't even seen her take out a notebook yet. She watches the news faithfully, but plenty of people do. It really isn't grounds for suspicion.

I glance at L out of the corner of my eyes as I've developed the uncomfortable sensation that I'm being watched. Sure enough, his clank face is turned to me, and the instant he notices the movement of my pupils, L's eyes lock on mine.

"What?" I snap, feeling slightly irritated. L and I aren't going to find anything from the footage if we're just staring at each other. I only want to improve his mood and advancing the case would probably do that.

"I want to assure you that Kiyomi Takada does nothing incriminating on any of this footage. I have watched all of it… countless times," L replies bitterly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Is that so?" I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly. "Then what have we been doing for the past two hours? Why am I up at four in the morning if it wasn't to help you out?" The fact is that I have gotten so little sleep because of our watching footage after the men leave at two that I have felt drained throughout each and every day for weeks. I am mentally and physically in bad shape because of my exhaustion, and though I manage to function properly, it takes far too much effort.

"I needed to speak with you about something… else," L says lamely, although he manages to sound almost apologetic.

I give myself a brief moment to ponder what the 'something else' is. Of course, the more girly, human part of me wants to think that he's going to confess his feelings for me. That he'll ask me out. That we'll kiss. The reasonable part of me. though, makes far more sense. _It's probably related to the case… but how?_

Needless to say, my almost nonexistent feminine side is sorely disappointed. "I need you to talk to Light again… tomorrow," L says. _See? Case related. No kissing. _"There is one other thing I require of you."

"Okay, and what's that?" I demand, tilting my head slightly. In spite of his vacant expression, there's an intriguing emotion flitting across his gaze that sort of… melts me. It's cheesy, really, but it's there.

"When you have finished speaking with Light, you will give up your possession of the Death Note." I let my mouth fall slightly open, and my eyes widen in shock. _The hell's he going on about? If I give up the Death Note, I'll lose my memory! _I cross my arms almost protectively and lean my neck into the cushions of the couch. I don't like it,. but I doubt that L will tell me why he wants me to do this. "Afterwards, you'll retain a piece of the notebook. During one of your conversations with the shi - with Rem, she mentioned that if you held a piece of the Note that you used to possess, your memories would remain. Is this true?" He glares up at Rem, who stands behind me, and I too look over at her until she nods.

I forget that thing is around sometimes. She never says anything, so it's not hard to ignore her. Besides, I'm also irritated with L. He has, once again, said something that proves I am being watched. Of course, even if he didn't do that, I'd know I was being watched anyways. Still, the last time he did this, I went mad and threw glass at him. Then… he kissed me.

To get me to shut up, he said.

"Fine," I comply, biting my lip to contain the tiny flame of anger that sparks inside of me. "What am I to say to Light?"

"Convince him to give up his note," L answers, stroking his lower lip with his thumb. I watch the movement and feel my heart rate accelerate. "You will carry a bug this time. I need to hear his reaction."

"Okay," I answer, glad that this time his order is fairly straightforward. Still, it will be difficult. Light's so attached to his Note… it's too much, really. I don't know how I'm going to convince him to do that.

"There isn't any need to continue," L answers, glancing at the monitor. I nod; if L says there's nothing to see, then there isn't.

"Okay… then I'm going to get some rest," I yawn, and for once L seems to get that he should go. He stands up - on the couch - and steps down onto the floor. I hesitate, but think of how devastatingly bold the bags under his eyes are becoming, and add, "You should too."

Once again, I find myself getting the are-you-nuts stare. "I've got work to do, Leila."

"I'm going to be honest with you, Ryuzaki," I say from my spot on the couch. "You look like shit." I'm shocked to see that he grins at this; actually, it's frustrating. "I'm not joking, okay? It's pretty clear that you're exhausted. You won't be getting much done if you kill yourself from working too hard."

"I'll be fine," he assures me, the ghost of a smile disappearing from his face as quickly as it had appeared. Even as I watch him go, I give my head a slow shake.

_You stubborn, stubborn bastard._

* * *

"Light, I know it sounds strange, but you have to do it! L is so close to finding you out," I cry, burying my face into the black fabric of Light's shirt. "He's very close."

"He's going to die tonight," Light frowns, ruffling my hair. "He can't take any drastic actions before now unless he has solid evidence, and if he has that, giving up the Death Note won't help me."

"You don't understand," I answer, hiccupping. "He doesn't have the evidence… yet. But L claims to be very close to it, and says that we should have it within the next couple of hours. He's… there's already a place set up for your execution. Yours and Misa's."

I feel Light stiffen at the word 'execution'. His hand, which was previously buried in my locks of strawberry-blonde, slides down to my hip. His grip on me is firm, and I feel his thumbs pressing hard against the bones in my hip. "You're certain of this?"

"L… wasn't lying, Light. He frightened me. You've been right all along. Even if he doesn't seem so on the surface, he's truly evil and needs to be punished. I know this now," I say. Most of it's a lie, but part of it was more than true. L can be truly terrifying when he wants to.

"He will be punished," Light promises, giving me a slight squeeze and pulling me slightly closer to him. "He already has been."

"Will you do it?" I whisper. "Please, I can't lose you. Keeping the notebook is too dangerous. If L manages to find even a piece of that thing in this investigation he's doing, he'll see your shinigami." I watch Light's eyes dart to an empty place in the corner, and look there myself. His shinigami is probably there, although I've not heard a word about it.

I went with such a blatantly obvious way to convince Light to give up the notebook because I figured he would never consider it. Light and L both thought up very complex, clever plans, and Light wouldn't even think of the most obvious thing L could do to reveal that Light is Kira. Light wouldn't think about L having someone search through his garbage or clean out his room to pick up every scrap of notebook paper they could find.

Light seems to be undergoing some kind of internal conflict. I want to groan. I've already been in here for two hours, trying desperately to convince him to give up the notebook. It's getting tiring, and since I don't know why it's necessary, it's all the more difficult.

"I will," he agrees slowly. "... on one condition. When I am released, you'll move into an apartment with me. Having a girlfriend that close will further convince the task force of my innocence."

I tried not to cringe as I thought of the implications behind his statement. It's not as if the task force will ever actually release him, but I still don't want to say… "... yes, of course." He gives me a very quick, but rather passionate, kiss and lets his lips linger on mine even after the kiss is really over.

He whispers to me, and the movement of his mouth tickles my own. "I'll do it here, now. _They _can't get see this and I'm sure they'll turn the cameras back on the instant you leave." He tilts his head towards on of the small black cameras in the corner and gives me another quick kiss, as if to say, _I'll miss all the Death Note related memories we had together. _The idea makes me want to laugh, but I contain myself long enough for him to say, "I relinquish my ownership of the Death Note."

Light's eyes widen, and I guide him in the general direction of his cot before allowing him to collapse. I watch him curl in on himself, as if he's in pain, and rush out of his room. L had told me to leave the room as soon as I could. It would be too confusing for Light if the first thing he saw after waking from some daze was me.

"Good," says the voice of L. He hadn't spoken throughout the entire encounter, even though the tiny device in my ear was so well hidden that Light would never see it, much less hear it. Still, I was proud that my performance had been good enough that even L had not felt the need to critique me as I worked. Then, of course, I come to the embarrassing revelation that L not only heard Light and I talking, but he also heard every kiss and sexual innuendo whispered between the two of us. Real or not, it's quite humiliating.

"Er, thanks," I mutter, glad for the lack of cameras, for the moment, at least. I can feel a blush spreading across my cheeks, and it isn't the lovely kind. It's an embarrassed blush, probably blotchy and ugly enough to make me look ill. I glance at my watch; the small, digital numbers tell me that it's reaching the late hours of the evening. It's past eight.

"When you get to headquarters, please join the rest of us in control immediately," L commands.

"Of course," I agree.

* * *

Each step I take seems to be longer than the last. I'm very nervous to join the rest of them; after all, it's clear that L has something big planned. Besides that, I too am supposed to be giving up my possession of the Note. Perhaps he will finally say why instead of leaving us all confused.

I follow Watari into the familiar setting: men crowded around the monitors, or reading paperwork. It's quiet in the room, but the minute I seat myself in my usual chair, about seven feet apart from any of the rest of them, the group draws closer.

As usual, Matsuda is the first to start any real conversation. "So, uh… why did you have Light give up his notebook?" He looks puzzled, his head cocked and his eyebrows turned down in frustration.

"Yeah!" Aizawa snaps, his face morphing into an angry one. His lips form a tight frown and his muscles are tense. I hold in a breath and press my lips together; I've never really liked Aizawa, but I still never expected this kind of behavior. He always gets angry over the stupidest things. It's distracting, and if I were in charge he'd be out of the task force simply because of his temperament. "What the hell was the point to all of that? Now we've just got two suspects who can't testify!"

"I assure you that there is a sound reason behind the actions take -" L begins, only to be cut off by Aizawa.

"None of this makes any sense, and I can tell already that you aren't going to explain yourself!"Aizawa snaps. I know he finds L maddening sometimes, but I find myself wondering how much L has to do to gain his trust. Apparently showing his face wasn't enough. Allowing Aizawa to personally work with him every day wasn't enough. Putting his life on the line multiple times - not enough. What does it take to satisfy these people?

"Aizawa, please calm down," I ask, leaning my head into my arms to warn off my impending headache.

He ignores me. "And now you're having Hill give up her Death Note? She won't remember either and then she'll be useless to the case!"

"Aizawa - _shut up_." My words come out a demonic growl. If looks could kill, Aizawa would be long dead under my cold stare.

I'm probably not a real threat to any of these men, but there reaches a certain point where anyone can be terrifying. A small child, a lone woman, or the most pathetic of men all have the potential to horrify anyone if they're pushed too hard. And I, Leila Grey, have been pushed far, far too hard. I am sick of Aizawa's arguing. I am sick of being secretive. I am sick of seducing Light. And - goddammit - I am sick of not getting what I want.

So I pour all of that venom into my three little words, and Aizawa shuts up.

"Thank you," I mutter, and go back to staring at the counter.

"As I was saying," L continues, as if nothing has happened. "I can't explain my reasoning just yet. However, I assure you that each action taken today was absolutely necessary." He glances up at Light, who has reappeared on the monitor. He's lying on the cot, and he still hasn't woken from whatever deep sleep he was apparently in. "Leila, you'll do it now."

"You mentioned I'd have a piece of the Death Note, so I wouldn't forget," I mention before saying anything. L, as usual, is way ahead of me. He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and presses it into my hand.

As I begin to speak, I become dreadfully aware of my audience. Aizawa, Matsuda, and Mogi stare at me with wide, curious eyes, and I swallow. "I… abdicate my hold over the Death Note," I mutter awkwardly. Rem nods at me, and walks over to L.

Just like that. I don't pass out, and my memories remain, I grip the piece of paper tightly, wrinkling it and running my fingers over the torn edges. L picks up the Death Note, which had been sitting, largely unobserved by me, next to his foot. L is the owner now.

He hands it to Watari, who exits the room with it. Our eyes all follow him until he's gone, probably to put the Death Note somewhere safe.

"So, what now?" asks Matsuda, who is avoiding looking at me and is now on edge.

"We will continue our usual research. Right now I want to see if there are _any _changes in Kira's killing patterns," L says, pushing his leg against the floor so that his chair spins a few times before sliding back to its original place. "This could lead us to some conclusive evidence."

Watari walks in with a cart full of cakes and pastries. He offers me one, and I take a quarter of a cake that smells distinctly like coffee. I poke at it with my fork before putting a rather large bite in my mouth and begin looking at the file that has been passed to me. It's basically a list of everything Kiyomi Takada has done over the past few days, and I'm supposed to be figuring out what the most basic, regular parts of her schedule are. I suppose L wants to see if anything about Kira's killings correlates with Kiyomi's schedule, but I privately doubt that this will reveal anything.

I use my pen to circle her wake-up times on each separate 'schedule' - all the same. Breakfast - all the same. School's on a regular basis.

I realize with a start that, in an instant, the sound of the dessert cart's wheels squeaking has stopped. In the smallest portion of a second, I whip my head around and watch someone slowly fall to the floor. No one else has noticed it yet, but with my small shriek and the muffled sound of a body hitting the floor, every man's attention is won.

"Watari!" I heard a chair smash into the quarter as L pushes off of it to propel himself towards his caretaker. The old man is struggling. Reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his phone and proceeds to press two buttons, but I'm too busy gawking at the horrible scene unfolding before me to focus much on the monitors. 'ALL DATA DELETION' is printed across every screen, and the room glows with white light.

L reaches Watari in less than a second. I am astounded that a human can move that quickly, but my heart thuds in fear. I have no clue what's happening. Watari displayed no signs of bad health moments ago, but he now seems to be suffering from heart failure. That can only mean one thing.

"Kira," gasps Aizawa, standing up and running to L's side, where he is crouched down by the dying old man.

But… Light's locked up with no memory of the Death Note. Kiyomi hasn't even seen Watari. As usual, I feel like I'm missing something. But the puzzle piece that I'm missing quickly flies back into place when I realize _it._

_What _has been following me day and night in recent ages?

_What _reaps the lives of humans, and pulls their souls from the safety of their bodies?

_What _isn't in this room, although it should be hovering directly behind L?

The shinigami.

I remember how many times we have all mentioned that Misa is going to get the death penalty, and how uneasy it made me. I knew Rem didn't like it, but I didn't warn the others. I never mentioned my suspicions… and now she's going to kill us all.

_This is my fault. We're going to drop dead any second now and it's my fault…_

I feel myself rise, take a few steps, and collapse onto the floor until I'm sitting criss-cross about three feet from what will soon be Watari's cold, dead body. I can hardly see Aizawa desperately pumping on his heart, but I definitely see him stop. "Ryuzaki, I'm sorry, I can't…"

Matsuda steps up to continue the job, but L gives a firm shake of his head. "The shinigami," he begins, "it's gone."

At those words, all five of us await the moment when our bodies will reject our souls, and the visible parts of us will be all the remains.

_Why didn't I say something? This is my fault… my fault… oh, God…_

But we don't die.

I stare at L, who is staring at Watari's body. He looks as if he might cry, and when he drops his head and hair covers his face, I avert my eyes.

_This. Is. My. Fault._

If I don't die, I will probably kill myself. How much pain have I caused by being too embarrassed to share an idea? Or… too stupid?

"We will begin search for the shinigami," commands L, his voice strong and unwavering. His face is still masked by shadows, and he is seated entirely on the floor. There is no crouching, or standing. He just sits. I assume he's staring at the body of my friend, and my heart breaks for him with an empathy I never knew I possessed. L begins to rise, and his body shows no sign of being affected by what he just observed. There is no shaking, and his slump isn't any worse than usual. "Everyone spl -"

I spoke far, far too soon.

_This gorgeous guy starts walking to the stage, and then another guy gets up. At first glance, he looks like he's wearing a cheap zombie costume: skin so pale it could be makeup, and bags under his eyes that very well could be, too._

L stops mid sentence. His lips part slightly, like he's in shock.

"_This is my friend Ryuga," states Light, sounding cheerful as ever._

His arms hang by his sides, and I watch as one finds its way to the fabric over his chest.

_I certainly wasn't expecting to be jump-scared by Hideki Ryuga after class. He's sitting in the chair next to me in his weird way: knees pulled up to his chest, with his feet in front of his body. His body is curved over his knees and his arms are wrapped around his legs._

It's a stereotypical reaction to cardiac arrest.

_I have taken the liberty of borrowing certain files. -H. Ryuga_

I run over to his side, but he's hit the ground before I have a chance to catch him.

"_I thought that was quite clear by now, Miss Hill," says Ryuzaki plainly. He scratches his thick hair like a money picking for bugs, and I cling to the hope that my theory is wrong. "I am L."_

I fall to my knees next to him. He's gasping for breath that he can't quite catch,

_I nearly jump out of my shoes as a hand - so cold I can feel it through my shirt - presses itself onto my shoulder._

I meet his beautiful grey eyes, which, for once, are completely open in that I can read them.

_L holds the paper Light has just handed him, pinching it with two fingers from each hand and holding it in front of his face._

They are the eyes of someone who is afraid.

_I've been muttering parts of the journal entry under my breath. It's an old habit of mine that I just haven't been able to shake. At the word "shinigami" I hear an awkward shuffling, and, without lifting my head, look at L through my hair. I laugh; his colorless face is tinged with a faint shade of pink. I remember him falling on his butt at that very same word just over two weeks ago. I look up at him and notice that he looks so solemn, it's as if he's trying to chase the blush off his face._

They are the eyes of someone who isn't ready to die, and who just wants to live. They are so desperate that they fix on any living thing they can find, even one that has lied to them and showed them hatred countless times… me.

_At first, I feel a single finger touching the tip of my own. Other fingers soon join and soon, L's fingers are tracing the lines on my own hand, and his fingers are running up and down my own._

I find myself praying to a God I never believed in. I'm negotiating. Asking him to please, please spare my friend, and I tell him all of the things I will do in return for this man's life.

_I let his dark eyes meet mine, and I suddenly notice that he's smiling at me. It's the same very adorable smile he's given me whenever he's particularly pleased with something he's said or done._

I should know better. Negotiating gets you nowhere.

_With his soul searching eyes and strong physique, he is a rather intimidating person. Especially when you aren't aware of just… how… close he is._

I watch him gasp some more. The sound makes me want to vomit, and all I can do is stare. horrified, as my only friend dies.

_My ranting is interrupted as L presses his own lips onto mine._

All of my time with L, flashing before my eyes, is far too much to bear. The last memory that runs through my mind is Light, scribbling a name on a piece of paper. Today's date. I suddenly realize that a good ten minutes passed between Watari's death and the violent heart attack that now plagues L, and there's no reason that the shinigami would have waited to kill him.

L gave me his real name… and then Light killed him with it using my blood.

I feel a weak, perfect hand grasp my own, and when the grip loosens, my head hits the floor.

L - or Landon Lawrence - is dead.

He is dead, and I am the cause of it.

* * *

**I'm not really sure what so say... :(**

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	18. A Brief Intermission: Oh, Death

I have never been to a funeral before, and I'm not looking forward to it.

Actually, it not a funeral so much as a graveside service. The body of my friend is in a coffin, and now we are going to allow the earth to swallow his cold, dead body. A body that isn't him any more, but it certainly reminds me of him.

I don't know how I will live with myself now. Two days ago, when I was horrified with Watari's death, I thought that I would probably kill myself. The thought still lingers.

I killed a man when I was younger, and now I've killed two more.

According to the task force, I was out for almost a day after L… after he died. They said they found some weird ashes with another Death Note buried underneath it.

It's just a suspicion, but I think the ashes were actually just little bits of Rem. I think the shinigami king punished her. Shinigami are meant to destroy life, and Rem tried to restore Misa's. Still, Rem's death doesn't make me happy. L is still dead.

I feel so utterly lost. My entire life has been turned upside down. The one person who was a friend to me, even if either of us said it out loud, is gone forever. Gone, and not coming back. Gone, so far gone that no amount of negotiating will ever bring him back to me.

The worst part is that it's my fault that he's dead. I somehow fooled myself into thinking that the name L had given me was fake, and then I blindly followed his orders. The orders that ultimately led to his death.

I tell myself that I'm a genius, but I'm not. I'm just a coward, and a liar, and a freak who's unlucky enough to still be alive.

All of these utterly disheartening thoughts run through my mind as I dress for the funeral. Truth be told, my outfit is drab. A medium grey blouse and skirt are all I wear. My face is devoid of makeup and my hair is unkempt. I can hardly speak because my throat is raw from sobbing done away from the prying eyes of those concerned for me.

I slip on my black sandals and drag myself out of headquarters. I shuffle around, barely manage to move my feet. I am broken. I don't really have a will to do anything.

Is the presence of true grief like this a sign that, for once in my life, I was strong enough to love someone?

Matsuda provides me with a ride to the funeral. It's quiet in his car, and I let my head press against the window. All of the city flashes by me as he drives, and sadness presses against my airways, stopping me from uttering a simple "thank you".

I realize as the drive continues that I have never felt so empty in my life. There's a pit in my stomach, and although it's hollow and needs to be filled, it pushes everything away. This is true in both an emotional and physical sense. I haven't been able to keep anything down since it happened, but I also have failed to accept reassurance from others. I know that over time the pit will grow until there's really nothing left of me, and I have a feeling that it will be soon.

The car comes to a stop, and I step out of the car as soon as I can. I've never been carsick, but until I taste the fresh air outside of the graveyard, I have the horrible feeling that I'm going to vomit.

Actually, the graveyard makes it worse.

* * *

After the dirt over L's grave is tightly packed, I wait until the men leave. I have to assure Matsuda a hundred times over that I will be fine, and I do. It is, of course, a lie. I have never been fine, and now I never will be. I watch them walk away, watch Matsuda glance over his shoulder. Even Mr. Yagami came out of his voluntary confinement to attend the very private graveside, and he too glances over his shoulder. Their eyes are full of concern, but I wave them away.

When the are out of sight, I seat myself on the dusty ground. I know that my clothing will look positively repulsive because of it, but it doesn't matter to me. I'm here to pay my respects, and like any nutter, that means I'm going to talk to someone who can't hear me.

I trace my fingers laxily in the dirt, forming random swirls and lines and organic shapes. I want to speak with him, but I can't force the words from my throat. They seem to be stuck, and choking me along with everything else I've swallowed in the past few days.

I could just think my words, but that would be another act of cowardice. I can't allow myself to be a coward anymore. That's what cost Watari and L their lives. "I… oh, shit. I'm so sorry," I mutter finally, staring at the ground. It won't talk back, but it holds something precious now, and that's who I'm talking to. "I'm going to miss you. We were friends, right?"

Friends. What does that mean? That we trusted each other? Or merely that we were close? No, I think that friendship means that you trust each other enough to show true respect. I know I held a lot of respect for L, and I can only hope he did for me. If he did, I'm very lucky, although I didn't deserve it at all.

"I'd give anything to have you back, you know," I add, my voice shaking as I continue to absently doodle. A thin layer of dust seems to coat me entirely, and I sneeze. Still, the dirt reminds me that all of this is real. Everything that has happened is reality, and not some awful nightmare brought on by exhaustion.

"Why did you give me your real name, Ryuzaki? I don't understand…" My eyes scan the all caps letters on his marble headstone. LANDON LAWRENCE. It's so cold and impersonal, not unlike the "funeral" itself.

"I'll miss the way you sit…" I pick up a clump of loose soil and drop it to the ground. That's all I am: a child playing in the sandbox.

"I'll miss all your smartass comments…" I roll a pebble around in my fist. It's smooth, perfect.

I don't want it, just like I didn't want the perfection offered to me so many years ago. "I'll miss staying up late so that I can talk with you." I throw the pebble into a nearby bush, hurling it as hard as I can. I hear a twig give a satisfying snap, and I stand. "I miss you too much to be here and talk to you when you'll never say anything back." A cloud of dust rises with me, and I cough before retreating to a place with more oxygen.

As I begin to walk away, my almost feverish brain pushes an insane thought to the surface. The last time I rejected perfection, I wound up in hell. And so, I job over to the bush to pick up the pebble I found earlier.

The pebble is surrounded by bits and pieces of glass, plastic, and wire.

Just above where the pebble sits, the ruined remnants of a camera dangle from thin, dark wire.

The funeral was watched.

I jerk the camera from its place and examine what remains of it.

Cameras are like rats. If you see one, there are another one hundred that you have yet to discover. I look around, my eyes falling on the branches of trees, the other bushes, broken headstones, lamps. Everything.

Who the hell is horrible enough to spy on people during a funeral?

I press my lips together and feel my face pale with anger. The pebble has long since dropped to the ground.

I only ever knew one person who was so prone to cameras, and he's dead. So who is this? Who dares to intrude upon something so private, so personally important? What kind of monster gawks at someone as they watch someone they carry about be lowered into the ground, never to be seen again?

I don't even have his goddamn picture, and I didn't get to see his body again after I passed out. A tear falls from the inner corner of my left eye and traces a clear path through the dust sticking to my face at the thought - L's face will begin to fade from my memory, no matter what I do.

I pull his face to mind, as clearly as I can. It's beautiful, but saddening. Beautiful because he was, even if he had to die for me to realize it. And sad because I will never really see it again.

Wide, passionate eyes. So determined, so focused, reflecting every attempt to see into them. No eyebrow to help shape his face, but the dark bags under his eyes that contrasted so sharply with his porcelain skin more than did the job. Feathery black hair that stuck out in every direction, but was so soft to the touch. Lovely long fingers that would have been perfect for piano playing, and cool hands with a gentle touch.

I hate to think that I will never, never see him again.

Even if he never would have loved me the way I so wanted him to in his later days, I wish he was still here.

All of this grief, a horrible depression that is so painfully obvious, and some motherfucker still had the raw nerve to intrude upon it.

I crush the camera in my fingers and stomp away, the sadness and guilt in my heart not disguised in the slightest by my mask of anger.

* * *

The Kira case is to continue without me.

It is a decision forced upon me by the older, 'wiser' men of the task force.

"This is too much stress for a kid," argues Aizawa, his eyes meeting mine. They're full of concern that I need, but don't want. I fully reject it. "You need to finish school, Leila."

Aizawa. He's a father, a family man. He wants the best for his children, but I am not his child.

"That isn't fair," I insist sharply, meeting his stubborn gaze with one of my own. "I've put a lot into this investigation and now you're just telling me to leave? To forget about it?"

"Leila," I feel Matsuda's gentle touch on my shoulder, and I refuse to meet his sympathetic gaze. "You're not taking Ryuzaki's death well at all. Working so hard combined with all this grief isn't good for you."

My lip quivers. I want to spit out a sharp reply, to push them away to ignore them. But Mr. Yagami is in charge now, and he's nodding in agreement. They're making me leave.

The blows keep coming. I can't take much more of them.

* * *

The final blow comes when the black smartphone that I kept out of sentiment rings. I answer, but the person n the other line isn't L.

_I. Am. Broken._

* * *

**Wow! Two updates in one night! Do you guys love me yet?**


	19. Locked Up and Packed Away

The voice the speaks into my over eager ears does not belong to L, like I deluded myself into hoping for.

I'm flopped down on the couch at my apartment, the rent of which L and/or Watari apparently paid for the next year. I haven't been here in weeks, but it's still mine. My eyes are locked on a spot in the ceiling above me, on a spot where the white paint is peeling off. I'm staring so determinedly at it that it's almost surprising I haven't burned a hole through to the next floor, but I suppose such feats are impossible. Like bringing someone back from the dead so that you can talk to them over the phone. Although my body is flattened and stretched out, part of me, namely my left arm, dangles off of the couch and drags on the floor.

It is with that arm that I swipe my bag from the coffee table. It tumbles to the ground and all the contents spread across the floor, but only one thing matters: that goddamn phone.

And then I pick up, and it isn't even him.

"This is Leila Grey?" I nearly feel my own heart stop. The fact that this person knows my name means that they were at least in touch with L, but who are they? The voice is that of an older man. It's full of grief and exhaustion, and sounds much like I imagine my own does.

"It depends on who's asking," I snap, irritated at the man for something that is not his fault. How can he help that I'm an ignorant fool who hoped for the impossible?

"This is Roger Ruvie, an associate of L," answers the man, his voice remaining much the same but for an added measure of coldness.

"He never mentioned you," I say cautiously, not quite willing to say too much to 'Roger Ruvie'. It's true. L never did mention him to me. Not that L mentioned a lot about any of his acquaintances, but I still need to be careful.

"I manage Wammy's House," Roger says, and I give a sigh of recognition. Shortly after L and Watari had died, the task force had uncovered Watari's identity. He was an inventor who used his riches to found orphanages across the world, and I suppose Wammy's House must be one of them. "Wammy's House is where L's successors are raised and taught."

"L's… successors?" I murmur, the confusion ebbing from my voice. Of course L would have successors. This way L would never have to die or discontinue his work. There would be L after L after L, and no one would ever know any different until a considerable amount of time had passed. Still, the idea of there being an orphanage where children compete to succeed L as a detective sheds some light on Watari. What kind of guy propagates kid detectives as a hobby?

"Yes, L's successors. I called to inform you that you have been paid in full for your services to L," Ruvie tells me, and I grab a fistful of the fabric covering the couch in an effort not to scream.

"I don't want any money," I answer simply, feeling proud that my voice has not even cracked.

"It was L's desire that you received compensation for your cooperation with him," answers the old man, sounding increasingly assertive with each word. I frown deeply; why won't he just understand that I don't want any money and hang up? It's clear enough that I don't wish to speak right now, but the man continues speaking. "As it is, I've already made the deposit."

"Thanks," I breathe miserably, giving in. Clearly the man isn't going to hang up until he knows I'll take a slice of L's fortune.

"I have an additional topic of equal importance to discuss with you, Miss Grey," Roger adds sternly. as if to stop me from hanging up. I hold the phone right next to my ear, and with every slight twitch of my fingers, the cool screen brushes against my ears.

"And what's that?" I mutter, perturbed.

"L mentioned that he wanted you to visit Wammy's House sometime. He thought you would be able to teach the children about the directing an amatuer field agent since he directed you himself." _So, L planned on me meeting his successors before he died so that they could hear from an "amatuer field agent"? I suppose that makes sense… and I could tell them all the ways that l directed me since I spoke with him firsthand and learned a lot from him._

I shake my head. How can I even consider this? L probably had countless… affiliates who could come in and speak to his successors. Most of them probably have more experience in tow, too. So why did he choose me? Had L never spoken to any of them in person? Or were those he actually talked to made unaware that he was L? Still, it's like Ruvie said. I am - was - and amatuer field agent. Surely L's successor, or whoever is in charge now, could pick any agent in the world to do this job, and not me.

But of course I can't refuse. The more I think about it, the more clear it becomes to me. I can't say no, and I won't allow myself to say no, because it is something that L planned to ask me for prior to his death. It is the final favor that L would have requested of me. A favor that would allow his legacy to continue. Who am I to reject someone who died because of me?

I sigh, releasing all of my frustration is a single breath, and I hear a shuffling on the other side of the phone. "When would this be taking place?" I inquire, and begin wearing away at the sensitive, scarred place in my cheek.

I hear the man on the other line breathe a sigh of relief. "We would be able to arrange for your arrival within a week from now," he informs me. "However, we will do so at your leisure."

I pause to consider and hurry online to check the state of my savings. Thanks to L's generosity, my bank account has jumped up three figures. Needless to say, I won't have to worry about getting a real, paying job anytime soon. My family doesn't care about seeing me, especially not in the next couple of weeks. All I have to worry about is school, which I can easily miss. Basically, without the investigation, I have nothing. Anytime is convenient for me.

"Anytime is fine with me. I have no other engagements to concern myself with," I tell him, going back to sit on my couch and wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. "How long will I be there?"

"It will depend on how the course goes," answers Ruvie. "The more benefit your students appear to receive from the course, the longer you will stay." I nod my head and mutter a 'yes' in response. I suppose that means I won't be there very long. After all, I have no teaching experience and no idea how to make a lesson beneficial to the students. Still, at least this way I can say that I tried. I tried to repay the debt that I can't possibly repay.

"Am I to assume that you will contact me with the details of my transportation as soon as possible?" I ask, pulling myself together before I fall apart during such an important call.

"Actually," Ruvie declares with a cough, "we have already sent you a plane ticket." I raise my eyebrows; this is so much like L. I would have had to come and teach whether I wanted to or not, and I would have gone when it was convenient for L, not for me. Whoever is running this operation now is certainly very similar to L. "You will leave on Wednesday. The tickets should arrive this evening, and further instructions will be included along with them."

And, with that, Roger hangs up on me. I gently set the smartphone on the counter and lean into the couch cushions. I fall asleep with my arms tangled in the fabric of my blanket.

* * *

The next morning, I take the train in order to attend my classes at To-Oh for what I assume will be the last time for a while. For once, I don't feel sick to my stomach at the noises and motion of the train. My joy is short lived when I realize that the reason for this is that I've felt nauseous almost constantly in recent days.

When I get off the train, Light is not there to check on me.

L is not here to walk about on school grounds. He won't be able to provide me with real food for thought during classtime, or to keep me company when I so desperately need it.

Watari won't be here to pick me up if I'm ill.

Just as I was at the beginning of the year, I am now completely alone.

I go back to putting my mask on. I keep a slight smile on my face whenever someone looks at me, and I walk with my head held high, as if nothing is wrong. I keep a steady, strong gait. Everything looks right, but it is quite misleading. It is a lie.

Finally, my mask breaks.

I say 'finally' but in truth it lasted almost no time at all. All it took was Kiyomi Takada walking up to me, and Kyoko trailing close behind. They're noticed that L is not with me, I realize, and they've also noticed that Light is still missing. I keep walking, hoping desperately that I will get away before they have a chance to try and catch my attention. It is unfortunate, but my luck is short in recent days.

"Hey, Leila," shouts Kiyomi, a friendly smile plastered on her seemingly perfect face. Kyoko doesn't say anything, but she's positively glaring at me. It seems that the two bonded out of their hatred for me.

"Kiyomi," I respond with equal cheer, turning quickly so I can look her in the face instead of just her general direction. The sappy smile is there, but she also looks rather smug. I clench my teeth.

"Where's Ryuga?" she asks, and my heart sinks. I knew, of course, that would be an object of curiosity. I simply didn't expect it to be the first thing she mentioned. Kyoko seems to be drawing closer to me by the second, hoping for any information she can scrape up about my so-called boyfriend.

"I'm… not sure, Kiyomi," I answer, my voice wavering slightly.

"Oh, I see. Did he break up with you?" Kiyomi asks, glancing at Kyoko. "Perhaps he, like Light, has realized that it's time to move on to better and brighter things." She speeds up and hurries away. Kiyomi's comment was so shallow that it doesn't hurt, but I'm still sort of surprised. Why would she go out of her way to injure me when it should be clear that she's already won?

* * *

I step into the airport terminal and begin to look around. After I get off the plane, I'm supposed to wait for five minutes before someone comes to get me. Still, God knows why I'm in Germany. It's just a hunch, but I truly doubt that the orphanage is there. L simply didn't appear to have any German roots, and his voice lacked even the slightest of German accents.

Exactly five minutes from my arrival, an old man arrives. He's mostly bald, and has a rather large nose. His white eyebrows are large, like caterpillars, but he wears the smallest pair of spectacles I've ever seen. When he speaks to me, I recognize his voice as that of Roger Ruvie. Besides that, he knows my name, and no one else in the airport should. "Miss Hill?" he whispers, and I stand up. "Do hurry. We need to go soon."

"Yes, of course," I murmur, following him at a pace that matches that of most other people in the airport. We're all in a rush. No one wants to miss their flight, but it's unlikely that I will miss mine. Somehow, I have a feeling that the plane will wait for us.

It isn't needed, though. Ruve and I are among the first on the plane, and we fly first class. Because we're in Europe, I'm allowed to drink. I vowed I would never do so again, but I find myself interested in the vodka and champagne offered to me. Roger simply watches me as I drink without really getting drunk. Our flight is mostly silent, filled with the slight smell of alcohol and the chattering of other passengers. It's uncomfortable to sit in the silence with a complete stranger, one that I don't trust completely,

Still, the flight is over quickly. Although I'm nervous about having to teach when I haven't even completed a full year of college, I find myself anticipating my meeting L's successors. It's a long shot, but… perhaps seeing them will help me recover from the awful shock I've been dealing with lately. I'm also worried - and this is, of course, absolutely ridiculous - that I'll be outshined by a bunch of kids.

The minute I step off the plane I'm ushered behind the airport and into an expensive looking car not unlike L's. I slide into the backseat as I used to, and Roger presumably gets into the front seat to drive. I lean my head into the cool leather of the headrest and twiddle my thumbs to ward off my nervousness.

* * *

Wammy's is beautiful. It's an enormous brick building, almost too big to be called a mansion. The property is surrounded by an iron gate, but it doesn't look at all unfriendly. The front yard is full of children, and some of the look over at the car as it pulls up. My stomach churns nervously, but luckily none of them seem to interested.

I slide out of the car from the door closest to the building and prepare to hurry in. Unfortunately, Ruvie doesn't seem to share my sentiments. Though he definitely appears to dislike the presence of the children, he doesn't go out of his way to avoid them. Ruvie pulls my single bag from the trunk and gestures to the door. I walk in and close the door behind me, breathing a sigh of relief at the empty room that greets me indoors.

"I'll take you to your room, Miss Hill," Ruvie mutters and begins walking up a flight of stairs. I shake my head; he's old, carrying my bag, and walking upstairs. I know that's not a good combination.

"I can carry my bag, sir," I say, holding out my arms, and Roger hands it to me with an appreciative nod. He's not much like Watari, I decide, who would have insisted upon carrying it for me. I can't say that's a particularly bad thing, though. Each person has their ups and downs.

I follow him to a large room that's rather plain, but it still makes me feel like a queen. The bed is huge and covered with a wonderfully embroidered comforter. The walls are white, but absolutely devoid of any blemish whatsoever. The flooring is a beautiful cherry hardwood, but the area around the bed is surrounded in plush rugs. There's a desk against the wall and several chairs throughout the room, not to mention a sofa. There's even a bathroom connected, and a small kitchenette.

"Oh, thanks," I say after recovering from my shock. This is almost comparable to one of L's suites, and I never expected I'd have anything like those to myself. "It's lovely…"

Ruvie nods and leaves me alone in the room without another word. I drop my bag on the bed - it's all clothes, truthfully. I was told not to bring anything else, and I didn't. I decide I will not pack them into the dressers that are underneath the mattress and built into the bed frame. It would make this whole situation feel too permanent.

Nothing is permanent…

… including the peace of my bedroom. In minutes, there is an incessant pounding against the wood of the door. I wince; surely Ruvie wouldn't knock that loud. My head begins to throb as the pounding continues, and I know I can no longer ignore it. I drag myself over to the door and swing it open, only to find the last thing I would have expected standing in the hallway where all of the employees' rooms are.

A boy about four or five years my junior stands just outside. Devilish eyes meet my own and he looks me up and down, scowling as if he's utterly displeased at what he sees. He wears black pants and a black long sleeve T-shirt that contrast sharply with his lightly tanned skin. It's clear enough from looking at him that he probably has a little bit of American heritage, but I'm not sure regarding anything else. His hair is cut just beneath his chin and is a lovely honey blonde. At first it appears girlish, but I quickly realize that it suits him well.

"You're the new teacher, aren't you?" shouts the boy after a few moments, his voice brimming with impatience. He looks around me and into the room behind me, as if he expects to see something strange or suspicious inside. I narrow my eyes at him and step out into the hallway so I can close the door. I realize my mistake the instant I make it, and the boy takes the chance to dart into the room, forcing me to follow him back in.

"Yes, I am," I respond firmly, looking down at the boy as he wanders around the room. "Have you got a good reason for being in here?"

"Obviously," answers the boy, as if he is sure I'm an idiot for being unable to read his mind. "_I _have to be the first to meet you. I wanted to see if you were worth listening to tomorrow."

I snort and roll my eyes at his rudeness. He must have intended to get some reaction from me, but I doubt he expected this one; he glances up at me and his features are full of shock. "The real question is whether or not you are worth teaching, kid. Now get out."

The corner of his lips curl down in an especially ugly frown as he glares up at me. "I am worth teaching. I'm the best," he snaps, scowling at me as he searches my eyes for fear. As if I could ever be intimidated by such a person. "I'm Mello," he adds, as if I should know him.

"Well, it's been lovely meeting you," I answer, and point to the door. "I'll see you in class tomorrow, and you can prove it."

"No!" shouts Mello, taking a step closer to me and balling his hands into tight fists. "I want to prove myself now. Then you'll know I'm the best even before class. Better than Near, better than Linda, better than…"

"Mello, stop," I command. "This is the third time I've told you to leave my room, and you will leave. I'll have plenty of time to see how great you are in class tomorrow." He stands there, gawking at me, as if no one has ever treated him so before. "If you don't exit the room now, I'll see to it that you aren't in class tomorrow." His face distorts into an ugly scowl as he stomps out, and I follow him into the hall to make sure that he's really gone.

_Jesus. I've got a feeling that kid's more trouble than he's worth. Class will be so fun tomorrow…_

* * *

The moment the honey blonde boy walks into the classroom, I know I've dug my own grave with him. His jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed determinedly. He slides into a seat in the front and center of the room and locks gazes with me. Mello will probably keep my attention for most of class. I roll my eyes and look down at the note that Roger handed me the night before. On it are instructions regarding a 'reward' for the student who shows the most potential.

I snort. I'm to reward a child for being good at lying.

The classroom fills up within about ten minutes, but Mello, who is determined to outshine everyone, had appeared twenty minutes early. Until each and every student has arrived, I pay almost no attention to him. The child's infuriating.

As it happens, classes at Wammy's are very interactive. Instead of waiting for me to introduce myself, the students aim questions at me without so much as raising their hands. "You're Leila Hill, our instructor for the time being?" asks a girl with silvery blonde hair in the middle row. Her eyes are half-shut and she immediately comes of as lazy. Furthermore, she's slouching. I give her a sharp nod and open my mouth to speak, but the questions continue to pour in.

"What can you teach us? You're only six or seven years older than a lot of us!"

"How do you know L?"

"Yeah, when did you work with him?"

"How many cases have you solved?"

I narrow my eyes at the final question. The idea that my occupation should define me when I haven't even had a chance to finish my college work ahead of time is ridiculous. These children seem to think that the fantastic educational opportunities they receive here at Wammy's are available to people everywhere, but that's ridiculous. "Everyone stop talking, now." My command echoes throughout the suddenly silent classroom, and Mello smirks. He's the only one of the twenty or so kids that haven't been pestering me for the past five minutes, and he knows it will attract positive attention.

"Yes ma'am," they all answer in perfect harmony, suddenly nervous to be in my presence.

"I'm here to teach you how to lie and how to spy," I say with a half-hearted smirk. "But right now, I'm going to be completely honest with you." I pause. I'm walking up and down the aisles, hesitating by the desk of every student that intrigues me other than Mello. The slouching girl. A girl with pretty light brown hair who's sketching me in her notebook. A boy with dark brown hair who is sucking his thumb, but is attentive to every word I say. An albino who is stacking dice on his desk, not looking at me but clearly heeding my words. "Just because you're a bunch of geniuses doesn't mean I'm going to give you special treatment. Everyone does what I tell them, and everyone participates." Each and every student gives a sharp nod of their head, and I return to the front of the room.

"As some of you already know, I'm Leila Hill," I say, sitting on the edge of my desk. "In spite of your age, I am your instructor and you'll treat me with the respect due whether you like it or not." More nodding. I look around at the children and begin my spiel again. "I know that most of your classes are academics or the arts, so a practical class like this one is more of a treat. Even though the differences between this class and your normal ones will be great, I trust that you all know it's important. As a detective, you may need to manipulate people at some point, so knowing how to act is key."

A girl's hand shoots up in the back and I nod at her. "Aren't there some moral issues with lying to people like that?"

I nod in agreement. "Yes, obviously. I suppose you could say it's a 'necessary evil', though. Imagine this: if you had to choose between telling a murderer the location of their victim or lying about it, what would you do? It's often important to choose the lesser evil."

"Okay," says the girl, still sounding uncertain. I shrug, not really caring what a child her age thinks. If and when she faces the real world, she'll realize the truth of my words.

"L once told us that he's a lying monster," offers a boy in the back of the classroom. I raise my eyebrows; a 'lying monster'? The hell's that supposed to mean?

"L said he was scared of lying monsters," argues a girl with short brown hair and a skinny face. "He said that lying monsters faked their entire lives, human interaction included." My face pales, and I hope it isn't noticeable to the students. _What the hell? That's me. _"He said that if he ever faced another lying monster, it would consume him."

"Okay," I choke, pulling everyone's attention back to me. "Back on topic. I personally prefer lying to acting. There may be lying involved, but that isn't all there is to it."

The children think over it and nod slowly, whether they agree or not. "So," I continue. "All of you have had to act at some point in your life. What did you find as key to being successful?"

Mello speaks up without a second's hesitation. "Precise analysis of the other party's character is required for the acting to work in your favor." As much as I hate to, I give him a nod of recognition.

"I'm sure you have all spent some time reading people, haven't you?" I ask, looking around the room and observe the ready nods of all the children. "Acting requires the ability to read people, so I want you all to put that into practice. Each time you speak with someone, think carefully about the reasoning behind their words, their body language, and anything that will tell you more about their character. Now, do we have any other keys to success?"

"Don't change your behavior for each person you're around," answers a girl with scruffy red hair. "Remain consistent so that you don't give away your intentions."

I nod in agreement but find her suggestion self-explanatory; I shouldn't need to further her point. "Okay. Anything else? Come on, you're all missing the obvious ones."

Silence, then Mello. _Damn, this kid really wants to show off. _"Monitor your own body language in order to conceal your deception," he offers, sounding confidence.

"That's right," I agree, and some of the children scowl at Mello as if jealous. "I want you all to talk among yourselves. Discuss how something like acting could and should be used in a case." The children immediately turn to each other and the room fills with the sound of discussion and debate. I briefly consider wandering around and listening in, but decide that the children are intelligent; I should leave this to them.

_This has to be the weirdest thing I've ever done. Teaching? How do you teach a room full of geniuses? I feel like I'm doing a shitty job, but I guess it's Ruvie's opinion that matters. But even if he thinks I should stay, will I? I don't think I'm made for this job. I want to study criminology and I want to work in that general field. I can't do that if I'm cooped up with these kids all of the time… speaking of which, these kids don't seem to know that he's dead. The fuck's up with that?_

I look up and find my eyes locked on the curly hair of the albino boy. He's not talking to anyone at all. In fact, he's completely absorbed in his tower of dice. _L… he used to stack up sugar cubes. Marshmallows. Candy. Funny how small the world is… _I sigh and stand up, moving quietly to the back of the classroom so I can speak to the boy without embarrassing him. I pull a chair up next to his desk. He pinpoints my eyes out of the corner of his own and I note that his gaze is just as dark and intriguing as L's always was.

He doesn't say anything, so I rap my knuckle against his desk once and mutter, "Hey." The boy turns to me sharply and his eyes dart across my face. "You need to participate in class."

He quickly looks away from me and continues stacking die after die. I begin to think that he will never answer me when he finally says, "I don't like their company much. I'd prefer to consider it on my own."

"Too bad," I say softly with a shake of my head. "You heard me at the beginning of class. No special treatment. If you won't talk to them, talk to me."

The boy's eyes meet mine and I find an awful shiver running down my spine. "Okay. Regarding acting: which you is the real on, and which is false? I'm rather intrigued, Ms. Hill."

I feel as if my mind has frozen, but I shake my head. "There's no point to acting if I tell you that, is there?"

"I suppose not," he answers, returning to his dice tower. "So tell me. How did you use lying when the need came?"

"Only in the most obvious of ways," I answer, recovering quickly. "When I most recently worked with L, I got to know the right people in order to benefit the investigation."

"You seduced someone," the boy summarizes, and I'm shocked in spite of myself. Perhaps I blushed or there was an implication behind my words that I was unaware of. Perhaps the bopy simply made an inference. Still, he was right and it's rather impressive.

"You catch on quickly," I say with a smile, and I begin to stand. "What do you go by?"

"Near," answers the boy, glancing at the clock on the wall. He opens a small back in his lap, and with one swipe of his arm he destroys his tower and pushes all the dice into the bag. "I'll see you in class next time, Ms. Hill."

* * *

"Yes, the two of them," I answer for what seems like the umpteenth time.

Roger groans. "Mello and Near. It always seems to come down to the two of them."

"Yes, I'm having a difficult time choosing which one of them will accompany me." I bite my lip before continuing. "I'm leaning towards Mello since he was the more active participant and brought about a lot of discussion during class, but Near showed a lot of potential when I spoke with him personally."

"Hmm. I think it would be best to award Mello for his participation. I daresay you'll have time for a few of these outings," Roger suggests, and I raise my eyebrows. _Did he just inadvertently suggest that I may be allowed to stay here for an extended time? It's June, dammit… I should be in my second year of college on campus, not sending in all my work online. But… this is a favor for L. I can't leave earlier than they make me… fuck! I hate this! I hate being indebted to people…_

"Yes, I do think that would be best." I answer, rising from my spot. "I truly am sorry for bothering you. I'm horribly inexperienced with teaching appreciate your advice."

"It isn't a problem, Miss Hill," murmurs Roger as I go.

* * *

"I told you I'm better than all of them," smirks Mello. He's sitting next to me in the backseat of the car, and is staring out the windows as the drive goes on. "... but what does this have to do with it?"

"We're going to practice your acting skills," I explain, and Mello turns back to me.

"What do mean by that, Leil - Ms. Hill?" Mello asks, sounding horrified. "Do I have to sign up for a musical or something?"

"No," I answer, snorting at him. "Not even close."

"Then how -?"

"I'm going to let you wander around town without supervision," I cut in, marveling at the evident shock on Mello's face. "You must come up with an alternate persona to present to anyone you meet, and you can go just about anywhere as long as it's legal."

"I guess you aren't as uptight as I thought," mutters the fourteen-year-old, gawking at me. He looks suddenly less pleased as another realization sets in. "But if I act as an alternate persona when I'm in this town for the first time…"

"... every time after, you'll have to keep it up," I answer, grinning cheekily. "Thus improving your acting skills. Oh, and you have to carry this around," I answer, handing him a phone. Mello raises his eyebrows, and I know that we share the knowledge that it will be used to track him. "If you lose the phone, I'll kick you out of my classes, and then you'll never be on top."

Mello scowls at me and mutters several profanities as the car rolls to a stop. I simply roll my eyes and we both step out of the car.

"You said I wouldn't have adult supervision. Are you still seventeen?" Mello asks, glaring at me.

"No," I snap. "I'll be wandering about as well. I can't stand being cooped up indoors. Now hurry along, we only have today." Mello gives me a sharp nod and a short-lived grin before running off to the confectionary. Go figure.

I sigh and wave at our driver, who isn't Roger but some other poor chap who was rather unhappy about having to chauffeur us around at seven in the morning. The car rolls smoothly away and I stretch out, glad for the chance to walk around. The weather is relatively nice, but I wear a jacket to ward off the miniscule but ever-present chill in the air. It clings to my skin, and it's red leather reflects the sunlight. It's unzipped in the front, so my usual cut-out shirt is visible. My skinny jeans provide little protection from the slight breeze, but walking helps to warm me up.

I, like Mello, who I quickly noted to be a chocoholic, am predictable. The first thing I do is get two mochas, each with three shots of espresso. I also treat myself to a chocolate muffin. Afterwards, I do some window shopping. i let my mind go completely blank. It's a rare occurrence and even a treat for me.

_L… I'm paying you back._

I finally walk past a bookstore and decide that I can't resist entering. It's small and smells dusty inside, but used book stores often smell that way. I rifle through shelf after shelf, finding nothing that interests me, and turn to leave. The only thing I can notice is the shadow that flits across the window and disappears in a split second.

I swallow uneasily. Usually such a shadow would mean nothing to me, but my involvement with L and his successors has made me paranoid. Still, if there's someone following me, it's better to be outside than trapped in a bookstore. There's almost nowhere to run here.

I step of into the lovely outside air, which smells of herbs and is about room temperature. All I can think to do is continue walking and enjoy the feeling of the crisp wind biting at my skin. I suddenly realize that my lips are chapped, and that it sort of hurts to breathe through my mouth.

That is my last real thought. After that, everything is animal instinct.

I walk into someone and fall over. As a fairly polite person in the public eye, I look up to apologize.

I don't get a word out of my mouth, but I do get a needle in my throat.

* * *

**-3rd Person POV-**

* * *

The man chuckles softly as he walks the girl into a back alley. His ride is there, and soon they will be out of sight. In a little town like this, there are no cameras to save Leila Grey.

The girl is draped over his shoulder and it's broad daylight, but he knows that he will be absolutely fine. This little town is sleepy until around ten, and it's not yet eight-thirty. No one has seen him, he is certain, and with no witnesses comes an easy getaway.

Still, he was expecting Leila Grey to be harder to catch. She was supposed to be clever, so why is it that her attempt to avoid him was so half-assed? She hardly tried. She had simply glanced left and right and continued walking, as if motion could save her from the rules set by fate. No, he thought, Leila Grey was not at her best right now.

He shoves her sleeping body into the trunk of his car. Tools such as ropes or gags won't be needed. Leila Grey was exhausted to the point of ill health even before he knocked her out. Her skin is disgustingly pale, he thinks as he closes the trunk and enters his car. Furthermore, the weight he found on her medical records was clearly outdated. From the moment he picked her up… no, the moment he had begun his observations of her, he had known that something was horribly wrong with this young woman. It was nothing to worry about. He would have plenty of time to ask her about that when she pulled herself from the deep slumber she is now trapped in.

On the drive to his apartment a good hour-and-a-half away, the man simply grins. Victory will finally be his. He cannot fail this time. It simply isn't an option.

The girl has woken up now, although she will still be rather drowsy. This was, of course, planned for. It will work in his favor.

The man parks in the same out-of-sight place as usual and yanks the girl from the trunk. The movement makes her look even more ill than she had before, but that, too, was favorable to him. "I told you not to drink so much, Annie," he complains as he half-leads and half-carries her into his apartment. She certainly appears drunk. Hungover, maybe, except for the vomiting. That particular knockout drug, the man decides, is a keeper.

He lays her unconscious body on his bed, which he has not used in some time now. He needs to slip back into an old routine, and had been preparing to do so for weeks. The abandonment of his bed had come along with everything else. The girl's body curls in on itself as she falls back into a deep slumber. The rest of the day will very likely be spent like this, with his eyes locked on someone that is really no more than a lump of flesh and skin and bone and hair for the moment.

Leila's body twitches and she utters fretfully even through her unaware state. Her arms cross in front of her, like an elementary kind of protection, and the man laughs. As if something like that would ever, ever protect her. Even as her fitful sleep talking continues, the man runs his pale, long fingers through her strawberry blonde locks of hair. "Oh, Leila," he exclaims, twisting it around his finger, pleasuring himself in the seeming innocence of his victim, "what grief does to us all. Is that it?" He finds that his horribly scarred arm and hand look dreadful next to her flawless face and unkempt but lovely hair. In terms of physical beauty, yes, she puts him to shame. But she will have no choice but to accept him. They never have a choice.

Besides, she is the key to everything. The key to his victory, and the key to the defeat of his enemy.

He will not lose this time. He refuses it.

* * *

**That was fun to write, although I certainly wasn't expecting it to take that particular twist. Honestly, I think this story writes itself more than I do xD**

**Replying to reviews like yeah;;  
Guest Reviewer XXL: I just realized that you reviewed earlier in the story too xD Thanks for sticking with me. And your English is great, honestly.  
Guest: I'll do anything for a piece of L's cake... anything. /fangirlmode  
perry130296: Admittedly, I was laughing as I wrote that line. I'm a terrible perso My poor OC.  
alohamiems: Can I just say that your review is the one that got me off my but and writing another chapter? Thanks! And I promise there's a lot of story left, and since I'm writing as I go along, anything could happen.**

**Just so you know, every fave, follow, and review is an encouragement to me. Thanks to you all!  
**

**I don't usually ask for reviews because I hate to be pushy, but if you have time, please leave one. I'd truly appreciate it! c:**


	20. Awaken

From the moment that my mind begins to stir, I become acutely aware of a constant touch. I badly want to reject it, but I can't seem to move. The touch is hardly in an inappropriate area, since it is simply a hand on my shoulder, but it in itself is inappropriate. I do not recall giving anyone permission to touch me, especially when I'm waking from what appears to have been an exceptionally deep sleep.

There's a slight pounding in the back of my head, but it doesn't bother me much. Unfortunately, it's not an uncommon occurrence for me to wake up with a headache, so it doesn't affect me much anymore. Still, the headache paired with my strange sense of immobility and the touch is enough to piss me off. I groan, putting all of my effort into using my left hand the push away the touch.

Much to my surprise, I hear someone chuckle, and the hand slides off of my shoulder. "Oh, kitten! You're awake at last!" I try to force my eyes open, but my lids are so heavy I may as well be trying to run a marathon in my current condition. As a result, my only response is another groan that echoes throughout the room. "Why won't you look at me, kitten?" murmurs the voice, amused. It's closer to my ears now and I gasp my discontent. I can't open my eyes, but I can't seem to speak to tell him that, either.

As my senses begin to come alive, I feel a panic begin to set in. I'm not sure who this man is, but I'm on a mattress. An unfamiliar mattress. The man has touched me without my consent, and even now I can tell that he's very close to me. It does not take much imagination to realize one of his possible intentions. I already avoided rape once. I doubt such luck will aid me a second time.

The man sighs and I feel a puff of air on the side of my neck. It is enough to tell me his position as well as mine. I must be lying near the edge of the bed, and he's sitting, kneeling, or crouching on the floor next to me. "I'll have to encourage you, then…" I feel some of my muscles tense and I want to cry out at the sadistic notions behind his few words, but I am suddenly silenced.

I feel the thin tip of someone's finger trace the edges of my lips, opening my mouth slightly. I feel hair tickle my face, and in spite of my apparent exhaustion, I force my eyes open. _This bastard will not kiss me. _Unfortunately, opening my eyes does absolutely nothing to stop him from planting a brief kiss on my unwilling lips. When he raises his head back up to smirk down at me, to comment on my now opened brown eyes, I nearly scream.

I've seen this face before. He's one of the criminals killed by Kira… but apparently, he isn't dead.

More importantly, I have a connection to him. He probably knows more about me than I want him to because of my cousin.

"Oh, you recognize me, don't you, kitten?" Beyond Birthday asks, leaning ove3r me and taking in my shocked expression. I suddenly realize that he looks extremely similar to L, outside of his clear Korean heritage. He has dark bags under his eyes and his face is quite blank. Even his voice suddenly seems similar to L's. It's deeper, but also very monotone. The most obvious difference between him is the scar tissue on his face, which runs down to his neck and probably everywhere else too. I wouldn't know; that's all I can see in my limited field of vision. "You do." The man sounds fully satisfied with himself, as though he's achieved something wonderful, and hums with content.

"No shit, Sherlock," I snap sarcastically, feeling very afraid but also unwilling to show it. This man is absolutely psychotic. For some reason, one that could not have been worth it and was never released to the public, he murdered three people and then tried to kill himself. Not only that, but he was brutal about it. Not only were all of the deaths fairly gruesome, but there was post-mortem mutilation involved.

The news said that his victims were drugged, but that is hardly a comfort. What if the drugs simply locked a living, conscious soul inside of a dying body? What if the victims were screaming on the inside, but they couldn't force out the sound?

Still, I'm certainly not drugged anymore. Perhaps it is a sign, a sign that he isn't planning on killing me quite yet. Or it may just mean that he's adjusted his methods and he's become even mo0re sadistic than he already was. Perhaps he _wants _to hear the screams now.

"You don't have to be so rude about it, kitten," he chuckles. "I'm happy to see you, after all. It took quite some time to track you down." He sits in L's crouch, and his back is hunched in a most painful looking way. It hurts to see how similar they are, but the question suddenly hits me. _How is he doing that? He can't know L, can he?_

Beyond seems to notice me staring at his peculiar posture and apparently feels the need to explain. "Sitting in this fashion increases one's deductive abilities by forty percent." He gives me a crooked grin and his eyes sparkle with an unfriendly mischief. If I thought I could run and get out of this alive, I would in an instant.

"Who told you that?" I ask, scooting back another foot. The small distance between the two of us will not protect me, but the illusion of safety is a nice one. The need for it has intensified because of the gut feeling I'm getting. _It's as if he's imitating L, _it says. It's illogical, too. This man only killed three people. That's hardly enough to catch the FBI's attention, much less L's, so he wouldn't have even been investigated by L. Much less _met _him.

"I think you know that. Why else would I track you down?" The eerie grin doesn't go away, and I feel myself beginning to fall ill. I quickly examine his person. He doesn't seem to have any real weapons out me, but he could still beat the life out of me with his bare hands. The immediate area doesn't appear to hold any weapons, either, but looks can be deceiving. No matter how much I wish to deceive myself, the truth still stands. My life is almost certainly going to end soon, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

"No, I don't, actually. Does it have something to do with my cousin?" I ask, frowning. Trying to look as if I actually cared about Quarter Queen.

"Attempting to appear unintelligent doesn't suit you, kitten. Stop," Beyond orders, crawling onto the bed. I feel an unpleasant swooping sensation in my stomach. It's similar to the feeling you get when you eat fair food and promptly get onto a roller coaster. It's the unpleasant knowledge that something bad is going to result from your decision.

"You speak as if you know me," I respond, narrowing my eyes. I haven't met him before. My life bears no resemblance to some dramatic TV movie, so of course I didn't visit him in prison to shout about the death of my cousin. I wasn't there to see him arrested, and I never met him before that, either. He doesn't know me. At least not personally. It makes me wonder how he seems to know that I met L when I didn't even tell my parents that.

"Not personally, but the online world is rather wonderful. Leila Grey. You're a student at To-Oh. A top student, actually. Shortly after the appearance of the Second Kira, you began to miss classes and large sums of money began to appear in your bank account at monthly intervals. It isn't difficult to figure out what happened, so please refrain from playing dumb." He sounds almost is if he is scolding me, and I frown. I suppose it isn't that hard to figure out, when you think about it. Still, there's no way he could have just found my bank statement online. he hacked my account, and probably other things, too.

"What the hell do you want?" I snap, wishing I could scoot back some more instead of being trapped against the wall. "If you're going to kill me, do it already. I'm sick of waiting." The words come out of my mouth quickly, too quickly, and I don't even think of what they imply. _I'm sick of waiting…_

The grin fades from his face, much to my relief. "No, that isn't it. You have some life left in you yet. I've taken you in for a very different reason." He crawls a little closer and then crouches. His knees are poking into my shins, which is far too close as it is, and then he leans forward. I nearly cringe at the hot breath that seems to condense on my face, and he whispers, "I'm going to catch Kira and you're going to help me."

It isn't a question. It's an order. Of course, it isn't entirely surprising, either. Of course Beyond Birthday would want to have Kira arrested, or possibly kill him. His status as a criminal makes him vulnerable.

"But you're already dead. It isn't as if you have to worry about Kira punishing you. He already thinks he has," I point out fairly, hoping that he will either kill me or let me go, because God knows I don't want to be here any longer.

"Nonsense. I'm very much alive," Beyond protests, leaning back. His wide eyes, which hold as much cleverness as L's ever did, seem to pierce mine. I grew used to meeting L's stare, but these eyes are different. They're very sane and very aware, but there's still a level of madness in them. Obsession. Still, it's no struggle to match his gaze, and I do so without a problem.

"Obviously. How is that, by way?" I ask coldly, thanking God that I'm such a smartass. If I wasn't, I'd have nothing to say. I'd simply be sitting here in a state of terror, trembling with the knowledge of my imminent death. Although my retorts aren't witty right now, they must be better than nothing if I'm still breathing.

Of course, the moment the question comes out of my mouth, I recognize the answer and instantly feel like a complete idiot. I should have realized it before. This is probably the fifteenth time in the past _month _that I've failed to notice something so dreadfully obvious.

What kind of parent dubs their child 'Beyond Birthday'? No way in hell is that his real name.

Beyond sees the realization dawning across my face and his grin grows ever wider. His closeness is hard to cope with, and I briefly wonder if he will cut me into pieces for shoving him off the bed. "My reason doesn't matter. What does matter is that you will help me do it whether or not you want to."

"What makes you think I can help you? I've never had the pleasure of meeting you before, so you had no way of gauging my intelligence before today," I reply, trying to scoot to the left only to realize that I'm literally in a corner. My back is pressed into the bedpost and I can feel my heart pounding where my knees press into my chest. The one really pathetic thing that provides me comfort is that I hardly need to worry about being raped. Something tells me that Beyond Birthday is not the type. Besides, none of his old victims were sexually assaulted.

He leans back a bit, brushing his hair from his face so I can better see his eyes. I come to the sudden realization that, while the bags under his eyes are real, he seems to be wearing eyeliner and possibly mascara. I'm reminded of L's eyelashes, and how they were thin and black and they seemed to frame his eyes in the most perfect way. My blood runs cold as I wonder if this man is, for some reason, imitating L. Mocking his appearance. "L let you work with him, didn't he?" The smooth, cool answer comes from nowhere, and I can't hide the shock that comes over me.

_How could he know that? Certainly he wasn't actually involved with L? I didn't think Beyond Birthday's crimes were that big of a deal, but I've been wrong before. Still, does this mean he's somehow accessed L's computers? Even if that is the case, the computers were wiped by Watari. There shouldn't have been anything left, much less mention of me._

_Should I deny it…? _"Yes, he did. May I ask how you acquired that information?" I reply sharply, narrowing my eyes.

"It isn't necessary," answers Beyond Birthday casually. "I will tell you that it was confirmed when you exited a car with one of the Wammy's House children. Mihael, was it?" Beyond asks, the goofy grin finally sliding from his face. He suddenly looks more businesslike, and it's a relief, really. Although his facial expression doesn't change how deadly he is, he suddenly feels less dangerous, and I loosen up I bit. It's because his face, straight and blank and calm, reminds me of L's. I can't help it…

_You have to._

"Mihael?" I wonder confusedly. It seems that he's referring to Mello, but I don't know why he's called him 'Mihael' or even how he knows that Mello is a Wammy's kid.

"You didn't think Mello was his real name, did you? Yes, I daresay he's quite worried by now, kitten," Beyond responds, his voice very blank. He _is _imitating L. _Why? Is it to freak me out? That's the only thing I can think of._ "That doesn't matter much, though. They won't find you."

"Maybe you're underestimating L's contacts," I snap.

"L's contacts?" Beyond mutters, his face drawing uncomfortably close to me. I frown; my mistake has not gone unnoticed. I can almost feel the sugar is his breath crystallizing on my skin. "If you're working with L, he will make a point of searching for you. It won't just be his contacts. You know that, kitten, so what did that mean?"

"Nothing," I say firmly. "I was staying with L's contacts before you plucked me from the streets, so… I said 'L's contacts'."

"That's a lie, kitten," Beyond answers calmly, and I find a hand pinning my throat to the wall. It isn't choking me, not yet, but it isn't difficult to deduce that it will be soon. "You can't fool one of L's successors with such an obvious lie. Tell the truth and I won't punish you for it."

Punish me? Punish me like my mother, who threw glass at me whenever she was upset? Or like my father, who would simply hit me over and over, his belt buckle leaving painful welts on my skin? It wouldn't be like my adoptive parents, who simply give me the cold shoulder. No, I doubt Beyond Birthday will use any of those methods. I expect that there will be something sharp involved, and that my blood will litter the grey bedsheets when he's finished. Still, I can't let a man like this know that L is dead, especially since he's clearly connected to him, somehow.

"That is the truth," I affirm, pressing my back against the wall and kicking out my legs. My feet come in contact with his shins and he shoots backwards, falling clear off the bed and hitting the floor with a bang. Still, I barely have time to react before he's upon me. Beyond's movements are incomprehensibly fast. In a split second, I've been slammed onto the floor. My body is spread eagled and I'm seeing stars. I've lost my breath and my heart rate is skyrocketing. I close my eyes in order to relax.

By the time I reopen them about four seconds later, Beyond's partial weight keeps me pinned to the ground. His left foot is planted on my chest, with his heel digging into the sensitive area just below my sternum and the ball of his foot pressed into the soft flesh of my right breast. It hurts, actually. He's not putting all of his weight on me, but it's still interfering with my ability to breathe. "Geroffme!" I gasp, my words mixing with one another due to my lack of air.

"Refrain from lying to me or you will regret it," Beyond tells me, pressing his foot into my chest. I cry out from the resulting pain but I really can't do anything about it. His hands hold my wrists to the ground, and he's out of reach of my legs. "Why is it that you referenced L's associates instead of L himself?"

I know that I can't allow myself to open my mouth because I'll either scream my horror or indulge him in the truth. I press my lips together and keep my eyes rolling around the room. Anything to avoid looking at him. His foot slides from my chest, but my newfound freedom is quickly cut short. One of my wrists is pulled to the other until he can hold them together with one hand. I'm yanked upwards, and I can only watch as Beyond pushes me back into the bed frame. My back feels intensely sore at being shoved against the wood, but I stop myself from crying out. I won't give him the satisfaction.

The circulation of blood to my hands feels cut off, he's holding my wrists so tightly, and his grip doesn't loosen. He turns to the bedside table and digs around in the drawer, finally pulling out a roll of something pink. When he bends down and the object is slightly closer to me, I see that it's duct tape. It's a pale pink, and decorated with hot pink strawberries with smiling faces. It would be hard not to laugh if it weren't for my current situation.

Beyond moves quickly, and his state of constant and rapid motion leads to a pain in my wrists where they're being jostled around. He forces me to lean forward and moves my wrists behind my back. I hear something tear and feel the sticky side of the duct tape wrapping around the bony part of my wrists. When they're completely surrounded, Beyond drops them and then adds another couple of layers. Really, it's not needed. Two layers of duct tape alone are strong enough to hold the weight of a truck without breaking. I suppose he wants to be sure that there will be little, if any, resistance. He moves so that he's on his knees next to me and pushes my back against the bedframe again. With that hand keeping me from moving, his other hand duct tapes my ankles together.

It is a wordless process, me lacking the courage - or the stupidity? - to scream and Beyond lacking the need to say anything. His actions speak for themselves. He is more than just a threat, and I need to take him seriously. As a matter of fact, I should just bow down to his will. Otherwise, it will end up far worse than this. I won't just be duct taped.

Beyond stands up, and I cringe as his fingers run through my hair and grasp all that they can. He yanks up, and my scalp screams in agony as I'm pulled back onto the mattress. He releases his hold and shoves me closer to the wall, clambering onto the bed himself. His shadow falls on me and I get the sudden urge to vomit. The sheer terror is overwhelming.

And, finally, he speaks. "Answer my question. Now."

I swallow, and it takes every bit of my courage to smoothly respond, "I already did."

"You were lying," he answers dryly. "You still are. Why is it, kitten, that you continue to lie when it's very likely that I've already deduced the truth?" He leans in, too close, his face inches from mine. Again, I smell the sickly sweet odor, the hint of strawberries. I note that his skin is only so pale because he's spent his days in a jail cell. L spent his days indoors, fighting for justice.

"If you've already deduced the truth, then I shouldn't have to waste my breath telling it. Get away from me," I order, my voice only calm because of the acting skills that have built up over the years. After all, I doubt this man will come to the proper conclusion, even if he is - or was - one of L's successors like he claims. No one would ever expect that. No one knew that L had revealed his face. And still, no one knows.

"It was Kira, wasn't it?" snaps Beyond Birthday, and my lips open slightly. He looks absolutely enraged for a minute, and I know that my expression is taken as confirmation. Still, I am confused. How is this man connected to L, and why, as a criminal, would he be upset by L's death? "That… complicates things."

Usually I would inquire as to what those 'things' are, but I haven't forgotten that he said he would punish me if I lied again. I doubt that he has, either.

Instead of punishing me instantly, though, he begins to pester at me. "I want the names of L's suspects."

I swallow. All I can provide is emptiness. We didn't really have any _suspects. _Light and Misa were practically proven guilty. After they were imprisoned, the identity of the acting Kira was a mystery to us. Light never mentioned them, and Misa didn't either.

Beyond becomes frustrated, and slaps me. It smarts, but I bite the inside of my cheek rather than cry out. "Leila Grey, no matter how much information you do or do not provide me, you will assist me solve this case. You want Kira caught, don't you?" he growls, grabbing my shirt collar and hoisting me up to the same height as his face. Our eyes meet, and I nod, feeling that this point is obvious enough that there's no point to lying. His intense gaze never wavers, but a smug grin slides onto his face. "You shouldn't care who catches Kira as long as he's caught. Work with me; tell me what I want to know and we'll catch him together."

One look into his power-hungry soul tells me that L wouldn't want me working with this man. But… I'm not L. And I do want to avenge him. Wasn't catching Kira a big deal to him while he was alive? Even if this man is a criminal, I have to remember that L worked with criminals too. He mentioned a con man a couple of times, for instance. As hard as it is to justify this, Beyond may be my only chance to actually have a part in catching Kira.

But…

"We didn't have any suspects," I mutter, leaning back as far as I can. It stretches the collar of my shirt and I wince; I'm showing off too much cleavage for comfort right now.

"None? That seems very unlikely." Beyond turns to rifle around in the drawer of the bedside table and pulls out a knife. It's several inches long and serrated, but it seems to be new. It's very sharp, at least. He pulls up my shirt so that a large area of skin above my right hip is exposed. I feel the cold tip touch my skin and wince, but he doesn't draw blood. "Were the suspects Japanese?"

"Yes," I answer readily.

"Did L arrest any of them?" Beyond asks, pressing yet further.

I bite my lip, feeling that's a bit too much to reveal, and feel a burning sensation where the knife was located. I look down and a thin trail of blood is falling from the area where the tip of the blade pierced my skin. "Yes," I answer, deciding on self-preservation over ignoring such a basic question and bleeding to death as a result.

"Who was arrested?" Beyond asks, finally going back to his original question. He's no longer looking at my face, but is staring intently at the blood, bright red on the pale skin of my stomach. It only takes ten seconds of hesitation before he swiftly draws the blade downwards, creating a thin, vertical line, about three inches long. By previous wound didn't warrant any kind of outcry, but finally, I release a pained gasp. The place where the knife was burns, and the air against it is cold and unwelcome. Looking at it only makes the feeling worse. "Speak up. I'm not a patient man," he warns me.

"Light Yagami and Misa Amane," I hiss, holding back a sob.

"After they were arrested, who was suspected of carrying out the Kira murders?" Beyond asked, raising the knife to its original point at the top of the vertical line.

I don't give him a reason to xut me again. Not this time, anyways. "We didn't have any real suspects."

"Is that so? We'll have to find some on our own." At that, I feel another burning sensation in the same general area and cry out. Beyond drops my shirt back to my side and nods satisfactorily. I don't have to look at the blood soaking through the fabric that he's carved his initial into me.

How cliche.

* * *

**-3rd Person POV-**

* * *

Mello was rather frustrated, to say the least. Frustrated, nervous, and intrigued. He had arrived back at the limousine at the instructed time, ready to happily convey his tales of manipulation to his teacher. Then, Hill hadn't showed up. The chauffeur had insisted on waiting for her until the sky went black, and then the two had left.

Now, Roger had called him into his office. Mello doesn't know the reason, but he highly suspects that it has something to do with the missing teacher. Mello frowns; her disappearance will probably hinder his efforts to get attention by doing well in her class. It was the one class in which he had outshined Near, and now it was being postponed.

Mello shoves open the door, walks in, and slams it behind him with a huff.

Roger isn't there, but someone else is.

Behind Roger's desk crouches a skinny figure. It's hard to see much about them in the darkness of the room, but Mello notes that they have very pale skin and messy hair. They are hunched over in an uncomfortable manner, and their hands are placed on their knees. Overall, they look sloppy, unprofessional, and inferior. "Who are you?" snaps Mello, walking up to the desk and leaning closer to the person. He can't see their face because they're staring at their toes, and the person's knees block their chest. Gender is a mystery to Mello.

"Please call me Ryuzaki," they answer, their blank baritone allowing Mello to identify them as male. He looks up and meets Mello's eyes. Mello can see the the skin is sallow in some places, as if the man is exceedingly unhealthy. Mello winces; it's painful to look at the man.

"Why are you in Roger's office?" Mello asks, deciding to press onwards. After all, it is a point of interest. Mello has never seen this man before but he has somehow managed to access the office of the man who runs Wammy's House. It seems very wrong, but it suggests that the man is important. besides that, his voice is vaguely familiar.

"I wished to speak with you," the man answers simply, pressing his lips together as he closely examines Mello's face. Mello got a similar feeling to the one he got when he was around Near. It is as if he's being looked down upon. Being scrutinized in this way puts him into a state of horrible discomfort, and he wants to snap out of it.

"About what?" Mello snaps rudely, hoping that it will cause the man to avert his stare. It doesn't. but at least the gaze becomes less calculating. Mello squirms uncomfortably and leans into the wood of the desk, hoping that his nervousness will go unnoticed.

If the man does see it, he doesn't care. "Were you in town with your teacher when she went missing?" Ryuzaki asks, getting straight to the point. Mello scowls; he feels as if he's going to be accused of not staying close enough to her to prevent that happening. It wasn't his fault! He couldn't have done anything!

"I was in town, but I wasn't with Hi - Miss Hill," Mello answers readily, meeting the man's eyes. They are a dark grey and they bore into his own.

"Do you know what part of town Miss Hill went to when the two of you separated?" inquires Ryuzaki, and Mello nods his head. He is glad to finally be helpful. Perhaps if they find Hill, her class will continue. Mello has no problem with learning how to lie and even less with being good at it. Why should he? Mello strives to be the best, and he seems to have a lot of success in the fields of lying, acting, and manipulation. Whether or not his talents lie in shady areas, he could take advantage of them in the future.

"She headed to a coffee shop," Mello declares, feeling proud of himself for remembering.

"Did you notice anything strange about town that day?" presses the man, and Mello shakes his head. He hums with discontent, but finally says, "Very well. You may go."

Mello turns to leave, but the question that has been hanging in the back of his mind is begging to be voiced. He wonders if it will get him into trouble, but finally blurts it out. "Are you L?"

The man looks up from where he had reverted to staring: his toes. He looks pleased for a moment, although it's a passing thing that fades after a second. Still, the yellow is his cheeks is disconcerting, and Mello wonders what caused it. If the man is L, he shouldn't have allowed himself to become so ill. "I must ask you not to disclose that information to the other students."

Mello wants to shout his triumph, but he gives only a sharp nod before turning to go. A small smile spreads across his feature as he ponders what he considers to be a victory. He has met L, and as far as he knows, Near hasn't.

"Mello," L calls, stopping Mello in his tracks. It feels wonderful to hear his hero say his name. It is, to use the cliche phrase, music to his ears, and Mello savors it. It probably won't happen again. as much as Mello wishes to believe that is the case, he knows that L is very cautious and it is a stretch for him to be here even for a day.

Still, Mello wonders, why is L here over a teacher? In spite of Hill's out-of-control hair, she was pretty enough to be out of this man's league. No way were they screwing, especially since L would not have revealed his true identity to someone who was probably a con woman. Without his identity in tow, this man had no appeal to him. Still, Mello can think of no realistic reason that L would be here inquiring about some silly teacher. He wonders if he would receive an answer upon asking, but highly doubts it. He won't try.

"I take pride in your successes," L continues. "You may go now."

Mello leaves the room, his ego blown up substantially by the small compliment. Really, the compliment itself isn't major, but what matters is who it's from. L takes pride in Mello. The world's greatest detective, his hero, takes pride in him. Perhaps the man was just lying, but Mello cannot think of a time when he was happier.

The thump of his footsteps against the hardwood only stop when he is in bed, smiling into his pillow and vowing to be even better. He will get more compliments like that, he promises himself. It will happen.

* * *

**This is a shorter chapter, I know. Please forgive meee~**

**Anyways.**

**Please review? I really do hate to ask for them but it seems to be necessary.**

**Thanks for all the faves, follows, and reviews, and sorry for taking ten days to update. I had a bit of a problem with writer's block...**


	21. Without

**Chapter 20**

* * *

**-3rd Person POV-**

* * *

"Near, you're needed in Roger's office." The notice comes from attendant with a soft, sweet voice. Near looks up at her and meets her eyes, gazing at her through his black colored contacts. He remembers that she is called Wendy, and that she is popular among the children for being exceptionally kind and easy to get along with. Wendy is new and Near hasn't met her yet, but he isn't interested quite yet. In fact, Near doubts that he will ever be truly interested in know her. Near exists to observe. He exists to succeed.

Still, he wonders, why is he wanted in Roger's office? He knows that he has done nothing wrong, so he shouldn't be in any trouble. If that isn't the case, it may have something to do with the missing teacher. Leila Hill. The teacher who refused to ignore Near, and refused to let him observe.

That, Near is interested in.

He sets down the final domino and looks at the titanic trail of them that he has set up. He wishes that he could be here to watch the dominoes fall, but he knows that he needs to leave or he may very well be in trouble. Still, Near tries to imagine that his creation will still be intact when he gets back.

He can't fool himself. He knows that if any of the other children see it, it will be destroyed in an instant. They would knock down a single domino, and the others would tumble right along with it.

Every action has a reaction. If one domino falls, so will the others.

Near stands up, feeling the cool cloth of his baggy white pajamas brush against his skin. They smell of laundry detergent, lavender, and Near presses his nose into his sleeve as he walks.

His feet drag with each step. Near isn't frightened, but he anticipates what is to come. If it does have anything to do with the missing teacher, Near isn't sure why he is being called upon. He didn't get to go on a field trip with her, although he doesn't regret it. Near does not resent Mello for earning that opportunity.

Near stops at the door to Roger's office and knocks. When it is opened, Roger steps aside to allow him in and shuts the door firmly behind him. Mello is also present, and is presently glaring at Near from across the room. In consideration of Mello's presence, though, the office is uncharacteristically quiet. It is not a healthy silence, either. It is one that smothers, and chokes away any joy and clarity in one's life.

Roger settles in the chair behind his desk and fidgets uncomfortably, and Near is glad when he finally forces the silence away. "Boys," he begins, sounding uncertain. Near notes that his voice is devoid of any grief whatsoever, as are his features. This means that both L and Watari are most likely well, and this is not the day when Near and Mello will discover which of them L has chosen. Still, Near thinks as he plays with the two dice in his hands, both of them are clearly eager to discover whatever news Roger has for them. "L has a request for the two of you."

Near can see Mello out of the corner of his eyes. Mello looks smug, as if he expected this to happen. In fact, Mello looks as if he knows exactly what is going on. Near wonders what the request is, but before he really has time to think about it, Mello has begun to speak.

"What is it?" he asks eagerly, his body language almost making him look poised to attack. His muscles seem tensed, his energy all focused on Roger. Mello is excited, and that makes Near all the more interested in what is happening.

"L wishes for the two of you to solve a case together," Roger states calmly, unfazed by Mello's excitement. He leans back in his chair, and glances at both of them in turn. Near realizes, with a thrill of happiness, that Mello is so overjoyed about L offering them such a wonderful opportunity that he has so far failed to dismay in Near's involvement.

"I'll do it!" Mello cries, throwing a fist into the air. His teeth are bared, his smile so wide that he looks more like an enraged predator that a jovial human. Then again, Near realizes, that is almost an accurate description of Mello.

"As will I," Near murmurs, glancing at Mello and preparing for the outburst that is sure to come. But it doesn't come. In fact, Mello just smirks.

"This is when I will surpass you, Near," he swears solemnly, and while the slight tension in the room remains, no more is added. Near doesn't respond but twiddles around with his dice; Roger coughs.

"Well," he says, apparently in some kind of shock at Mello's unusual compliance, "it's excellent that the two of you will work together... you will, won't you?" Roger asks. Near frowns, realizing that Mello did not actually agree to work with him, but just to work. Still, Near reminds himself that Mello is more likely to prove his worth to L by working well even with those he finds difficult that working alone. Mello mayst know that.

And it seems that Mello does. "We will, won't we, Near?" he hisses, as if Near has ever had a problem with Mello. As far as Near is concerned, Mello's inferiority complex is the only driving driving a wedge between the two of them. In spite of how obnoxious Mello can be at times, Near has nothing against him. In fact, Near admires Mello's drive. It is something that Near has never possessed much of. In fact, Near relies almost solely on his intelligence and creativity to work through situations. There are things in which Mello would flourish where Near would not, and Near respects that.

"Yes, of course," Near says, more to the dice than anything else. Still, the words don't go unheard, so it hardly matters.

Roger seems to swell with relief. "That's excellent. Now, the case." He pulls two new laptops from beside his desk and places them on the polished wood surface. Near raises his eyebrows, though not visibly; what makes this case so important that they would spare no expense?

The laptops are pure black and plain, but they are thin and lightweight. It is a sure sign that not only have they never been used, but they are new, expensive models, equipped with speed and new software. In fact, the money placed in this case tells Near that if L himself isn't personally involved now, he will be soon.

"The two of you remember your most recent guest teacher, don't you?" Roger asks after giving Near and Mello sufficient time to gawk at their new laptops. It becomes clear that he expects an answer instantly, so Near steps in.

"Of course. Leila Hill, about five feet four inches, and probably weighing one hundred and twenty pounds or more. A skilled actor, and assertive, but fair," he says aloud, mostly just voicing his thoughts. He can feel Mello's wicked grin at the word 'fair' and knows that Mello will use any chance to gloat. But Near doesn't mind. He was simply interested in Hill because of her unique treatment of him, and that was his character analysis. If he didn't mean it, or if he minded Mello's knowledge of it, Near would not have said it out loud.

"Mm," Roger states, apparently at a loss of words. "Right. Now, both of you know that she has gone missing." Both Near and Mello nod at this statement. "It has actually been less than twelve hours since she disappeared, and there is hope of finding her yet. That is up to the two of you. All basic information regarding the case has been loaded to these laptops. L expects the two of you to work towards the solution together." Roger watches the two of them stand there, and then gruffly commands, "Well, go! Contact me if you require assistance."

Mello takes charge almost instantly. He grabs the two laptops and then quickly slips them into the cases that a panicked Roger nearly throws at him. In one hand, he grabs the straps on the cases, and in the other he tightly grips Near's wrist. It is almost painful, and Near drops the die in his left hand, the one Mello is holding. He bends down to pick it up, but Mello jerks hard on his wrist, and Near is forced to run. "Come on, Near!" he shouts, and the two burst from the office and into the hallway. Mello was moving so quickly that he nearly fell, and Near winced.

"Perhaps we should slow down?" Near suggested. He finds himself worried that Mello will damage the laptops somehow. Accident or not, it would make it more difficult to work on the case.

"Take them," Mello says quickly, and Near finds one strap pressing into each shoulder. The laptops are lightweight, but Near is unused to carrying almost anything. It catches him off guard. However, he is made to get used to it quickly as Mello yanks on his wrist again. They are going just as quickly as before, and Near bears the weight of the laptops so that they may continue at the same speed.

They soon arrive in what Near knows to be Mello's room. He has never been inside of it, of course, but it is easily recognizable by the strong smell of Lindor chocolate and the wrappers that litter the floor. Near silently questions whether it is a suitable workplace, but pushes the thought aside. Mentioning his doubt out loud would only spur further disharmony between the two of them.

Mello places one laptop on the floor and one on his bed, and then clambers onto his mattress and begins to start up his own laptop. Near follows suit but remains on the floor. He knows that Mello's physical presence above him makes him feel more comfortable, and he is willing to take that if it means they can solve the case.

The laptops are well suited to the task at hand. Near is quick to point on the files that have been loaded onto the computer. One contains all of Leila Hill's personal information, excepting a real name. The other contains lists of criminal suspects and more files regarding those suspects. Near frowns; clearly, L went to the trouble of narrowing down the list of suspects on his own. "L is working on this case," he announces, glancing at Mello. "He has employed us as catalysts."

"Looks like it," Mello agrees, pulling a chocolate bar from under his covers. He peels off the wrapper and casts it onto the floor, and Near watches the ball of cellophane roll across the room and bounce off the wall. The room echoes a satisfying snap; just as they are catalysts to the investigation, Near knows, chocolate is a catalyst to Mello's mind.

"We need to figure out where exactly she went missing," Mello voices through a mouthful of chocolate. Near nods; they know the general area that she disappeared from, but not the exact location.

"Perhaps the list of hobbies at the bottom of her hobbies at the bottom of her file can be put to use," Near suggests, reading over the files with incredible speed. "It may hint at where she was heading after sheet the cafe." It is not lost on him that hobbies and interests would not usually be present in personal records, and he is mildly intrigued by their presence there.

"How does L know what all of her hobbies and interests are?" asks Mello sharply. "Look, it even says that she only enjoys chocolate desserts. Isn't that a little weird?" Sure enough, Near finds that very sentence among her interests.

"Perhaps L was personally involved with her," Near offers, tilting his head. Otherwise, he decides, things such as her food preferences would remain a mystery. Still, it is strange to think of L being personally involved with anyone. Near always thought of L as a kind of recluse. He never even came to see his successors. In fact, the closest he came to being 'personally involved' with them was speaking to them via a laptop without his usual synthetic voice filter. Near admits to himself that he does resent L for it, and although he respects him, he does not particularly like L.

"Personally involved how?" Mello asks wryly, and Near frowns. Now is not the time for crude jokes.

"We may be able to employ the use of the local police force," he says flatly.

Mello frowns deeply at him, but does not comment on his lack of a sense of humor for once. Near knows that he is simply too keen to impress L. "We can have them interview all shopkeepers and homeowners between the cafe and the bakery, bookstore, and the park."

"The park?" Near questions.

Mello shrugs. "Says she liked people watching."

Near nods in understanding and glances down at his own laptop. "This will involve communicating with the police," he points out. "Your social skills by far outshine my own. You should request their assistance." He becomes very aware of Mello's stony glare. He is probably trying to find something insulting in Near's comment, but evidently can't.

"You're right, I should," Mello agrees, almost like he is boasting. He opens an icon on the laptop that is supposed to connect the two of us to Roger, and soon enough, the old man's voice comes from the speakers.

"What?" Roger says, his irritation not lost even among the static.

"We need to request something of the police," Mello reports calmly, snapping another bite of chocolate from the bar. He looks nervous, as if he thinks it won't be allowed. As if he thinks only L can really wield that kind of power. Perhaps he is worried that L would allow them to do all of the real work while pretending that he was leading the investigation. To Mello, that would surely mean that his hero had failed to live up to expectations.

"Then do it. An additional icon is on your laptops. It's on the top-left corner of the desktops. The police have been notified of your assistance, but don't reveal your identities," Roger orders, and the icon closes.

"Wow," Mello says, apparently in awe. Then, as if nothing happened, he clicks on the icon that will connect him to the police. The screen suddenly shows an office, where a single man sits at a desk, apparently hard at work on something. He is short and squat with blonde hair, though he is balding. Near estimates him to be in his late forties or early fifties, and quickly identities him by the plaque on his desk. Chief of Police Robert Winston.

"Chief Winston," Mello barks, and the man at the desk jumps visibly. Near realizes, with a hint of amusement, that the man is hearing a synthetic voice.

"M," responds Winston. Near can tell by the location of the man's pupil that he is looking at the screen of the laptop and not into the camera. It is a bit rude, but Near has always theorized that the reason L uses a laptop to communicate is so that the screen provides a distraction from the camera. It's like a test to see who is truly curious enough to 'meet the eyes' of the detective, or bold enough to, and who is easily distracted by the letter floating in the middle of the screen.

As it is, Near can see a small box in the top left corner of Mello's laptop screen that shows what Winston's screen looks like. Not only is it a pure black M on a white background, but it is in exactly the same font as L's insignia. Mello has noticed it too, and he glows with pride.

Still, Mello handles the situation well. "I want you to conduct a thorough investigation on these locations and the places in between them. A file will be sent to you with all of the information you'll need. I want your men to speak to anyone who was in the area at the approximate time of the disappearance. Inform me the instant anything comes up." And, without allowing the man a word in edgewise, he shuts the icon. "Near, send him a file with all the routes we want them to check. Got it?"

Near nods sharply and leans close to the screen of his own computer. Moments later, the file is sent, and the two of them have nothing to do until further news is received. Usually Mello can't stand being in a room with Near, but Near notices that he is so full of himself that he doesn't seem bothered by his presence.

"Perhaps we should attempt to profile the list of suspects given to us," Near finally suggests gingerly.

"L's done that already," Mello points out.

Near shrugs and decides to do it himself, but there really isn't much to do. The silence is overwhelming. It's full of anticipation. What will their work so far lead to?

They don't have to wait long to find out. There is a buzzing noise of Mello's laptop, and the icon opens itself up. Mello leans forward in his eagerness and Near looks up interestedly. Winston is sitting there, and he's obviously made a hurried effort to appear dignified. His hair appears sloppy and he's a bit sweaty, as if he's just gotten out of a stressful situation. "M," he gasps. "A neighbor about a hundred feet from the bookstore reported that she was awakened by the sound of a car in an alley."

"And?" Mello asks, his voice cold.

"The place was completely wiped of any evidence."

"Wiped?" Near asks, a level of fear inserting itself into his voice. Mello, to, suddenly looked less confident.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mello snapped, and Near knew that they were both hoping they were wrong. If this is really a copycat crime, they are guaranteed to fail. Leila Hill won't be seen ever again.

"No evidence was left behind at all, and the place was literally wiped down. No fingerprints of fibers of clothing or DNA anywhere. Absolutely none," Winston says. Near feels the Air Force itself from his lungs, and he can't breathe in. "I think it's safe to say that's where the victim went missing."

"Thank you," Mello said, tapping the icon closed and glancing at Near.

There are times when even two people that hate each other can form a bond. In the moments of their greatest common terror or their worst challenge, they will work together. When they face a common evil, they will overcome it as a team.

Unfortunately, now is one of those times.

"This needs to be reported to Roger," Near says, swallowing. He keeps his voice calm in spite of the fear that plagues him. He has only just remembered, but the public was never told that Beyond Birthday literally wiped every fingerprint from his crime scenes. They simply knew of the Wara Nyingo and that the murders were especially brutal. The wiped scenes had been a part of the horror story known only to the policemen working on the case and to the Wammy's House children who were eager to learn about L's work.

For those select Wammy's House children, that particular story wasn't just a lesson. It was a warning.

"G-go tell him in person," says Mello, staring at the suspects list.

Near leaves without a word. For once, his feet don't drag. He's in a hurry. He is scared.

How could that man have survived? Was the name given to the media not real? Near always thought 'Beyond Birthday' sounded like a ridiculous screen name, but parents did name their children strange things sometimes.

The more important question was how Beyond Birthday had managed to snatch the teacher up. He was serving a life sentence, after all.

Had L had something to do with it? Had he, for some reason, faked Beyond Birthday's death, or had it been someone else.

It matters, it really does, and as Near barges into Roger's office, the questions continue to plague his mind.

Roger looks up, and Near can see in his eyes that he is angered by the disruption. At the same time, he looks mildly shocked to see that Near is the cause of it. Near understands. He almost never has anything to do with anyone in The House, so it really isn't possible for him to cause a disruption. "Yes, Near?" he grumbles.

Near swallows and meets his eyes. He wonders how Roger will take this. After all, Roger knew Beyond Birthday, too. "Sir, the alleyway from which Ms. Hill disappeared was completely wiped of any fingerprints. At first Mello and I believed it to be a mimicry of Beyond Birthday's murders, but we remembered that -"

"That particular detail was never made available to the public."

At first, Near is not sure where the voice came from. It is low and emotionless, and it is very firm and strong. He recognizes the voice, of course, although vaguely. It is only when Roger glances at the screen of the laptop in front of him that Near realizes the voice originated from there, and that the voice is L's. He last heard it only a year ago, when L was speaking of one of the methods he used to solve cases with the Wammy's House orphans. It was over a computer then, too.

"Beyond Birthday escaped his guards during transit last January," L continues. "I have already concluded that he is responsible for this."

Near purses his lips. He wonders if this entire ordeal was a test. If it was, who was it for? He thinks that it was most likely directed at Mello, to see if he could put aside his differences with others to work on a case. But Near is not sure. How can he be?

"The two of you have done an excellent job," L says, apparently remembering Near's presence. "You may go."

And that's what Near does. He goes.

Near doesn't know how Mello will respond. He might be happy for L's praise, but the fact that it was a test may take the joy out of it. Near honestly doesn't want to go straight to Mello's room to find out. He isn't sure if he can take listening to yet another childish temper tantrum right now.

Instead, he takes a detour. He takes a left, a right, then left and left. Finally, he reaches a room full of fallen dominos. Near looks out at the room and at the small black and white game pieces collapsed on each other all across the floor. There are probably over a thousand of them. It took Near all day to set them up, but it took someone else only an instant to destroy it.

Knock down a single domino, and the others will tumble right along with it.

* * *

Kiyomi Takada had never expected things to go so well.

First, she built up her popularity at To-Oh. Now, in her sophomore year of college, she is rightly known as the cleverest and most beautiful girl present, by far. She puts so much effort into being a person of worth each day. She spends hours making sure she looks decent, something that is actually very natural for her. She sometimes thinks that she has been blessed by whatever higher powers there are in more ways than one.

Next, a boy worthy of her appeared at her school. His name is Light Yagami. Not only is he very handsome, but he is the top freshman at To-Oh University. He is a special kind of brilliant, the only kind that Kiyomi Takada will accept. Light Yagami did have some kind of a girlfriend or a whore or something, but she was a small obstacle. That messy, stupid, shy girl had never had a chance against Kiyomi.

And that was the third thing. The girl really didn't stand a chance.

Only a couple of months ago, Light Yagami had come to Kiyomi's home to discuss something that he insisted was very important. He had walked through her front door upon her invitation and slipped off his shoes as requested. Her parents were not home at the time, so she and Light were able to privately have their conversation while sitting at the kitchen table. Kiyomi had prepared drinks, praying that the discussion was the one she had so anticipated.

And it had been.

"Kiyomi... I wanted to confess to you that I've been interested in... keeping your company for a very long time," he said, meeting her eyes with his deep, lovely brown ones. His cheeks had been dusted with a faint pink, but he seemed very sure of himself. "From the day I met you, I knew that it must have been fate for us to cross paths."

Fate! Kiyomi's heart rate sped up. When she had first spoken to Light and observed how intelligence, she had known in her heart that he was meant for her. She loved everything from his manner of speaking to the way he held himself, and she had known that their meeting was important. It had changed something within her. She had a new drive, a new passion. She wanted to show Light Yagami what they were meant to become together, and it seemed that she was finally getting what she wanted. "I agree, Light," Kiyomi said, feeling quite charmed. She felt a blush of excitement dust her own cheeks even as she looked him up and down. Soon, everything she saw before her would be hers. "However, the fact stands that you're with another girl right now. I just couldn't do that to someone."

"Neither could I," Light answered. "I broke the news to her earlier today. She took it quite well, and then confessed to me that she'd been seeing... someone else... all along." He looked so truly saddened, and Kiyomi felt truly sympathetic for him. For that other girl to betray Light's trust like that was despicable.

"I'm so sorry, Light," Kiyomi murmured, shaking her head. "You deserve better," she added, clearly implying that she was better. It was the truth, though. Adulterers and cheaters like Light's ex truly deserved nothing good in life. Kiyomi held this belief close to her heart, and now that she saw how those wrongdoings had affected the one man she had ever connected with, the view was strengthened.

"Thank you, Kiyomi," Light answered gratefully, flashing her a small smile. Kiyomi noticed that they were slightly closer together now; she felt another thrill of excitement. "Will you have me, then? I believe that you are better." His words were pleading, but sincere, and Kiyomi knew that she could not resist such a request. Light was being so kind to her, and on top of that, his good looks were truly making themselves known. She could see the muscles moving through his button-down shirt, and she adored the way his perfectly combed pale brown locks draped in front of his chestnut-colored eyes. She swallowed. Of course she would be his, and he would be hers. Kiyomi would have it no other way.

She slipped her hand into his. It was warm and dry, and it covered her own completely. She truly loved the feeling of his soft skin against hers. Kiyomi took a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes before answering. "Of course, Light," she sighed, her eyelashes fluttering. The closeness of the man next to her put her in a dreamlike state. She was thoroughly enthused with everything that was happening to her.

"Thank you, Kiyomi," Light said, allowing the refined Takada to sink into his chest. To Kiyomi, he sounded truly please, and it filled her with joy. For her to please the one she loved was important to her, and she had done that for Light. "Still, the episode with Leila has taught me something. Absolute honesty is required for a successful relationship."

Kiyomi had suddenly felt very confused. She pulled away from his chest and met his eyes again. "Of course, Light. I agree completely."

Light had smiled, flashing his perfect teeth at her. His eyes sparkled with something mysterious, and Kiyomi felt herself drawn in. "I'm glad, Kiyomi. I have something to tell you." He'd leaned close to her ear, until his soft lips brushed against them. "I am Kira... and I have a task for you."

Kiyomi smirks at the memory. Never has she felt more pleased with herself. It is clear that Light had not trusted that Leila enough to share his secret. He apparently found her unworthy of being his true companion. But Kiyomi would join him as his queen when he ruled a world free of the wickedness that marred it now. She knew that she would handle the power well, and that she would be a good, strong leader beside her lover.

Kiyomi had hidden away almost a hundred pages from the notebook of death. She is still pleased that Light trusted her with them while he faces his opponents. To trust Kiyomi with such a task proves that he truly loves her.

As Kiyomi sits in a secluded corner of the cafe and scribbles a name on the wrinkled surface of the deadly paper, she smiles. Soon, she will not just be Miss To-Oh. She will be a goddess.

* * *

"L, we've found nothing in that alleyway," says Winston, and L can see a clear picture of the man on the screen of the laptop sitting in front of him.

For the first time in a decade, he is at Wammy's. _It is strange, being here without Watari making an appearance every now and then to check on my well-being._ But, unlike L, Quillish Wammy is truly dead. While Wammy was never exactly a father figure, he certainly was important in L's life. Transitioning to a world without him has been more than difficult, and L cannot help in when he wishes that things had gone differently earlier in the Kira case. It is illogical because wishing will change exactly nothing, but he can't help it.

"Hm," L says in response. "I want you to interview every person who was within three hundred feet of that alley. I want to know of any vehicles or people who were present at Hill's time of disappearance." He bites the knuckle of his thumb, hard, as if to punish himself. What else can he do? It is, at least partially, his fault that she has disappeared.

L had realized the shinigami's strange obsession with the fate of Misa Amane early on, and he had prepared for the imminent threat of death that was bound to lash out at any time. He had been ready for it, and although he hadn't really expected a heart attack, he had prepared for that, too, just in case. After his death, he would need a person of intelligence to assist him in his work against Kira. After all, he didn't want to reveal his survival to the police right away. They would want to somehow save every Kira victim the way he had saved himself.

He'd chosen Leila.

The plan had been really quite simple. Her arrival at Wammy's would not only benefit him, but the children, too. They would learn how to formulate a believable character to present to the public, and he would get back his work partner, all in one package. However, he wanted to avoid making a scene when he arrived at Wammy's from the hospital, and even if he had somehow disguised himself, Leila would have sniffed it out in an instant.

To get around that, he had suggested that she take one of the students into town.

Leila Grey had mysteriously disappeared for his convenience. L cringed; that made him sound like so many murderers he had apprehended. Still, it was true.

L promises himself that he will search everywhere for her. Especially since her life is at risk.

_Especially since she is now in the hands of a brutal murderer._

When L had chosen a random date for Beyond Birthday to suffer a heart attack, since his real name was unknown and he didn't want the media to realize how strange it was that such a brutal murderer was still alive, he had not expected the man to escape in transit. Beyond Birthday had killed four of his escorts and severely injured the driver. He had then disappeared, and there was no trace of him for over a year.

But now he is back, stealing lives even if he isn't necessarily killing them. L scowls into a butterscotch candy, and feels his entire body clench in frustration. _What if Beyond is killing again? There is a small chance that he has killed Leila by now... I'd say a 23 to 25 percent chance. Her knowledge of me may assist her in some way._

_What would Beyond want to know about me if he didn't kill her simply for being acquainted with me?_

_He always spoke of his desire to surpass me._ L shoved a fistful of candies into his mouth. The usually comforting sweetness of the candies fails him. They cannot override the horrible bitterness of his life of late, and they cannot fix the damage done to his body. He glances down at himself in shame. He had prepared a procedure to be carried out in the case of a heart attack, but his body had not. It hadn't taken it well; he is recovering, but L's clothing is more loose on his body than it ever has been and he is much more susceptible to illness than usual. His germaphobia hasn't helped the experience either. His body has failed to build an immunity to the pathogens that attack it, and as a result, each illness that hits, hits hard.

The way he appears now, when he does track down Leila -_ because I will, I must, I can't allow a lack of success_ \- she won't be able to look at him. Perhaps she wasn't overly vain, but no one wants to look at a yellowy loose skin hanging over a skeleton like an impermanent coat or a costume. His current state of health, combined with his already strange persona, will no doubt be more than enough to repel her.

_If Beyond wishes to surpass me at whatever I am doing, he will ask about my most recent location and dwell in that general area_, L thinks, staring into his laptop screen, less at the image than at the source of Light. Staring at screens and files like this for years on end have made his eyes large, and they sometimes seem to bug. That isn't very aesthetically pleasing, much less attractive.

_So there is a possibility that Beyond is either in Japan or he is heading there now. If that is the case, he was likely on a recent flight from a nearby airport to Japan, or he will be in the near future._ L pauses in consideration. It would certainly be more convenient for Beyond to choose the airport nearest to his place of dwelling, but it is much more likely and less obvious for him to choose an airport farther away. _It may prove wise to post guards at every large airport nationwide..._

L suddenly wonders exactly what Beyond is doing, right now? He wonders if he is imitating L again. It would make him a little easier to track down, but not too much. Furthermore, even if that is the case, L comes to the realization that, upon alerting the police of this fact, his identity may be at risk or he may risk arrest upon going outside.

The idea of being mocked by Beyond, again, is positively repulsive. For an escaped murderer to try and steal his identity is disgusting and too daring to be in any way charming.

L clicks the other button on his laptop, the one that allows him to speak with Roger. "Roger," he says impatiently, hearing only static on the other end.

"Yes?" comes the voice of the old man.

L begins to issue commands to Roger as if he is Watari. After all, that is basically his new identity. He is to replace Quillish Wammy and fill the role of L's faithful assistant, Watari. "I want you to contact every major airport in the country and have extra guards posted in each one. I also want the records of any plane tickets leading to Japan bought since Leila's disappearance."

"Of course."

L nods tiredly. In spite of his shamefully unhealthy form, he is still an insomniac. No doubt he will be sleeping in twenty minute blocks until this case is over. In spite of his exhaustion, he must work effectively. Soon he will personally examine the profiles of hundreds of people who bought plane tickets, and, needless to say, he isn't looking forward to it.

_If or when Beyond reaches Japan, it is unlikely that he will stay in the Kanto region. However, I will have surveillance cameras placed around and in Leila's apartment in case of intrusion... He yawns. No doubt she will be enraged to hear of this particular action. She evidently dislikes cameras. Still, whatever the reason, this is an absolute must that might produce a lead._

L doesn't want to admit how unlikely it is.

_I'm unsure of whether he will rent an apartment or a hotel room. Or, in fact, whether he will pursue shelter at all. I can only hope that if he keeps Leila with him, he will have the common decency to do so..._

L was never able to discover what, exactly, Beyond Birthday's living situation was when he committed the murders in LA.

He presses a chewy strawberry-flavored candy to his lips. It isn't naturally flavored; he can tell by the sickly sweet swell and the slight odor of large amounts of red dye. Still, candy helps keep him awake, energized, and relatively well-mannered. He presses it into his mouth, pressing his teeth into it hard and dwelling on the strange feeling he gets when it stays whole, and sticks, molded, to his upper-right molars. The flavor is fairly unpleasant, but the sweetness is nice and the chewing wards off hunger.

He wonders what Leila will do when he gets her back. She stayed angry at him, although she didn't show it nearly as much as his time of 'dying' drew nearer. And that kiss. It was very strange. It was an impulsive decision where L did not make impulsive decisions. It was his first kiss, and she didn't even return it. Not that he had expected her to. Still, even at the time, he found it regrettable when the awkwardness of that one-sided kiss lingered until she thought he was dying.

No to mention the utter humiliation of losing control of himself and inappropriately touching her. L hated alcohol and knew of his unreasonably low tolerance for the stuff, but he still drank a can of beer and more when he was out of her sight. Even though he hates the foul taste and the horrible stench that sticks to clothing and breath and teeth, on the rare occasion that L actually drinks alcohol, he sometimes finds that it is hard to stop drinking it. All the more reason to avoid the concoction. Besides, his body hardly needed it right now.

The alcohol was almost a legitimate excuse for his actions, but there is little doubt in his mind that Leila, who claimed to have never drunk before but seemed sober the night of that party, would disagree. When she claimed all was fine, she was probably stretching the truth to ease the horrible embarrassment he had felt at... apologizing.

If there is a single legitimate reason to never wrong anyone again, it would be that he will never have to apologize again. Unfortunately, no human being is capable of such a feat, especially not L. He mixes lies with truths so off with that those around him can't differentiate between the two. It works to his advantage, but the habit is so deeply seated within him that he will never be able to stop.

L becomes rather frustrated with himself, even moreso than before. He has tried to discover the reason behind his strange obsession with Leila and how she functions and thinks and feels, and why she affects his functions and thoughts and feelings the way she does, but he has only found one answer so far and he greatly dislikes it. He remembers briefly mentioning it to Quillish Wammy, and he remembers that instead of receiving some kind of advice from the man that should have been like a father to him, he got something like a scolding glance. It made him feel small and vulnerable, and it reminded him that he mustn't allow such trivial feelings because it was unprofessional and the organization that practically owned him had raised him to be professional.

It reminds him of the last time he had craved a woman's affections, which had resulted in his being kicked down a flight of stairs. When he reported it to Wammy, he had been told to expect things like that.

It was horrible.

No one would love him, ever. And L had trained himself not to wish for something he could never have. So he rejects the conclusion he had drawn and searches for another one... to no avail.

He stirs his coffee and smiles at his own rare idiocy. _This is what stems from my efforts to gain the trust of others. Rejection._

And then that hopeful part of him, the part he longs to stem because it isn't professional, says: _That isn't true. You haven't been rejected yet._

_Yet._

* * *

_so. Hello again, guys. It's been a while._

_sorry about the weird writing style in the first two portions of this chapter. For some reason the italics weren't working, so I had to write those sections in a really weird way to actually put in any character thought._

_So, I actually dislike Near and Mello, but I have enjoyed writing for them._

_L's part came the easiest to me, though._

**_Now, the below section of text is IMPORTANT. Please, please, please read it!_**

_I'm going to finish this story because I made a commitment to something, but I'm going to make a statement and I will uphold it._

_Yes, Im going to finish the story. No, I don't have to post it._

_And I won't, either._

_if you want me to post a chapter, review. Until I have one review/2000 words in the future chapter, I won't post it._

_I'm sure this seems really rude to some of you, but I'm not going to apologize about it. Maybe you don't quite understand the time and effort that goes into writing a chapter of this story. For instance, this chapter. It isn't a 1000 words per hour thing. The writing part alone for this chapter, and for many others, took me 14+ hours of my time. Now add in the time I took to think about tying the chapters together, leading into future chapters, etc._

_it's a lot._

_And I love writing this story, but I will NOT post it here without getting some reviews. __One word can count as a review. You can even leave an anonymous one! I don't care._

_...which leads me to thank all the cool folks that have reviewed! You guys rock! Thank you! Have a cookie!_

**_Now that I'm done being mean or whatever, I do have a much happier announcement. The fiftieth reviewer (or, if the fiftieth reviewer is a ghest, the next registered reviewer) can request a one's of regarding this story or any of my other active stories. Yay for summer and me having too much time on my hands! :D_**


	22. Freeflyer

**Free Flyer**

Beyond Birthday's new, rented automobile is not 'smooth as pudding'. In fact, the entire ride is uncomfortable. Every few minutes, my butt flies off of the chair and lands back on it, hard. The seats are like brick, too - baked leather hardened in the sun's rays. Not that Beyond really cares. The man is so cocky that he hardly even bothered to drug me. Instead, he provided me with a dark green hoodie and some loose jeans that might have been his. I look about two years younger than I really am now, what with the hood pulled up and only the sour curves of my lips visible in the dim light of sunset. I look like a punk.

Beyond drives, of course, and I sit in the passenger side. My elbow is pressed uncomfortably against the door, and my head is held in my hands. I glare at Beyond out of the corner of my eyes, scowling all the while because my situation is not exactly a desirable one. Add in the fact that the single real precaution Beyond has taken is to cuff me to the door handle, and my life has gone to hell in a handbag.

And that's if you don't count a direct threat to my well-being as a precaution.

We're driving along a paved road to some airport. A while ago, we got off some plane and I found out that we were in France. Beyond was apparently very prepared for both of us to leave the country - we both have fake IDs. I am apparently called Annabeth Warrington and he will be called Rue Ryuzaki.

I didn't ask if his alias was a coincidence. It hurts to think that he is mocking L just to get to me, but that very well may be the case.

Now we're headed to another airport, likely the one near or in Paris. I can't remember. It isn't like I've been there, after all.

Beyond loves the sound of his own voice. It's clear by how he rambles on and on. Though I don't want to like conversing with him, I do. He's intelligent, and what he has to say is definitely very interesting even if it is potentially morbid. It's sort of irritating that I can't absolutely hate my captor. It should be easy to hate and fear a psychotic murderer, but it really isn't. It's there, but in tiny quantities few and far between. I get the feeling that he isn't someone who enjoys killing, and I suppose that provides the illusion of safety.

Besides, he looks a lot like L. I'm sure he's doing that on purpose because he knows it will reinforce the subconscious notion that I am not endangered by his presence. Unfortunately, he is absolutely right. There simply isn't any question about it. Yes, I know he'll kill me if he feels the need, but I doubt that he will have the need because he's right. I feel at least halfway to safe without meaning to, and I want to catch Kira so badly that of course I'll work with him.

"Say," Beyond says finally, and I know that he's about to ask a question. This, of course, means that I better pay attention or he'll flip his lid. "What was he like? I wonder if he's changed much." I notice that his fingers are gripped so tightly on the steering wheel that his knuckles are an ugly, blotchy white. He's either angry with me for some reason, or he doesn't enjoy talking about L much. I suppose I can only hope that I have the right answer.

"He," I begin, and then pause, because my mouth is suddenly so very dry and it is hard to breathe. _I will just tell the truth. Be brutally honest. It will make him sound terribly unappealing while also failing to put down Beyond's... idol. Or whatever L is._ "He was very intelligent, obviously. He was always so rude, though, and he had no concept of personal space or human rights. He... had a lot of drive, and he was fairly creative when he needed to be." I pause again, running my tongue across the seemingly dry scar tissue on the inside of my cheeks. I hate making him sound so horrible, like some kind of beast. Insulting a dead friend feels wrong, and especially so because of my affections for him.

"How dressed like this, didn't he?" Beyond asks, gesturing to himself, and I nod. Beyond's obsession with L is rather off-putting; for instance, his dressing as L in spite of the danger of being picked out because of it shows that the obsession could prove to be unhealthy in the future.

"Yes," I answer, raising my eyebrows a little even though I'm not looking at him anymore.

"He hasn't changed much, then," Beyond mutters, and I watch his grip on the steering wheel loosen, tighten, loosen, tighten. This means that he knew L personally, but was that before or after he committed his crimes? The more I think about it, the more I think that the answer must be 'after'. L was not the type that would bother personally meeting and knowing someone after apprehending them., even if he actually did investigate Beyond Birthday, for whatever reason. However, his lacking social skills also seemed to suggest that he hadn't met that many people before. So who was Beyond to L?

"I suppose not," I mutter, not knowing what else to say to him, really. We hit a speed bump, and once again, my head slams against the window. Still, when I look up, I realize that we've reached yet another airport. I purse my lips at the realization that we probably aren't even in France anymore. How far away are we now?

It's doubtful that anyone will be able to find me by this point. It's clear enough that Beyond has pulled off escape jobs before, and since he seems to be doing this rather expertly, the police won't be able to predict his moves at all.

Beyond brings the car to a stop in a parking garage. When it halts, I allow my limp body to be thrown forward a little and then snap back against the seat. There's a click as Beyond turns the keys and then all the car noise ceases. This much silence is almost disconcerting in an airport parking garage.

He pushes his door open and steps out, then slams it shut. I can hear his footsteps when he walks around the car, and when he opens my own door, my handcuffed arm is roughly jerked out. Beyond pulls a key from the deep pocket of his jeans and unlocks them, leaving the handcuffs hanging from the door handle. I rise from my seat as he begins the slow process of wiping down the interior of the car with a white handkerchief that he seems to have on him at all times. "Don't run off," he says, with a weird, quirky grin in my general direction. "I'd hate to punish you again.

At that, the hand in the pocket of my hoodie balls up, and fear wells up in the pit of my stomach. The 'B' carved into the soft flesh of my stomach seems to burn, reminding me that he is not at all kidding. It is of the greatest importance to take him seriously simply because he will not hesitate to... punish me.

The squeaking of the handkerchief against the windows is deathly annoying, but I can't exactly complain. Not that I really want to. Maybe if he takes to long wiping down the whole damn car, we'll miss our flight. At least that would attract some attention. I lean against the car opposite us and watch Beyond emerge from the car, tucking the now dirty handkerchief into his pocket. He gives me that freakish, disconcerting grin again and loops his arm in mine.

This is, of course, in effort to ensure that I remain by his side. Still, my muscles clench and he smirks at me, as if enjoying my reaction to the unpleasant contact between us. "Hurry up or we'll miss our flight, Annie," he declares in a singsong voice, dragging me along as he begins to walk.

"Don't we have any luggage?" I grumble, wondering what I'm supposed to be wearing for the next several days. I'm also out of a toothbrush now. Awesome.

"No, Annie," Beyond answers, and I notice that he's said my alias twice now. Saying someone's name so frequently is a mark of possessiveness, and it's almost frightening to realize that this brutal murderer feels like he owns me. Like I am his. "Carrying around bags would waste time. Time is money and therefore life." At this, he chuckles, and I get the bizarre feeling that he's made some kind of joke.

The doors to the airport slide open, and the sweat on the back of my neck, from anxiety and the heat of the outdoors, chills instantly upon contact with the cool air inside. It becomes instantly much louder, and I blink in annoyance at the noise. But I don't have time to adjust because Beyond is still dragging me about, and if I stand still too long, he jerks at my elbow. It's really irritating and standing still isn't going to do anything, anyways.

It isn't long before we reach security. Much to my surprise, neither of us gets patted down. I would have at least expected Beyond to have some kind of weapon on him, but I suppose he's not that stupid.

We have crap seats on the plane, in the tail. It's in the spot where the wheels pop out right underneath you. I'm a good flier, but I hate that spot specifically. It makes me sick.

Beyond sits me down on the seat by the window, and he sits on the outside seat. Not that it matters. Even if the seats were reversed, I couldn't have gone into the aisle without him catching me. Besides, we're on a plane, so I couldn't really get away.

Not that I want to, really.

I do despise him, but I also have no doubt that he is intelligent enough to catch Kira without police assistance. I need that help to avenge L.

I'm so deep in my own thoughts that I nearly fail to notice the pack of gum sitting on my lap.

* * *

-3rd Person POV-

* * *

"Uh, Mels?" asks a teenager with medium-length brown hair and a pair of goggles perched on his head. "I don't know that this is a good idea." He looks terribly uncertain even as he follows Mello, who smirks back in response.

"L did say that I could continue investigating on my own," Mello lies as they step out of the airport. It's a lucky thing they both speak Japanese, now that they're here. Of course, Matt came only because of Mello's nagging. He'd do just about anything to make it stop. Even if 'just about anything' involved contact with Beyond Birthday, a man infamous among all the Wammy's House orphans for being as clever as L and even more dangerous.

Or perhaps not. "Uh, Mels? Maybe L would be more impressed with you if you actually put some thought into this. We're going to be killed," Matt points out, nervously digging his GameBoy out of his single suitcase. This is a way to relieve his nervousness, something that has plagued him on and off since they left Wammy's. Needless to say, the usually cocky Matt feels less than comfortable actively pursuing Birthday.

Mello snorts and shakes his head, causing his almost feminine locks to fall into his eyes. "L is pleased with me, not Near. And might I remind you that one of the things that makes me different from Near is that I actually do things?" He fixes his eyes on Matt's, who simply nods and sighs. _Mello, what kind of trouble are you going to get us into this time?_

Matt turns his GameBoy on and begins playing Pokemon, a game which is admittedly becoming boring since he's beaten it multiple times already. Still, it's a distraction from the undeniable lack of common sense in the genius walking by his side. "So where are we going to stay while we're here in Japan? It isn't like Wammy's is funding is right now," he reminds Mello.

Much to Matt's surprise, Mello simply grins as he hails a cab. "I got the teacher's address off of that file." The cab stops and they both clamber in, Mello listing and address for the cabbie and Matt raising his eyebrows.

"And if we find the teacher?" he asks, nudging Mello hard in his upper arm. "Don't you think she might be upset about us camping out in her apartment?" Matt remembers the teacher, and how she seemed so cold towards most of the students. He can't imagine her being able to overlook the fact that he and Mello had lived in her home.

"If we find her," Mello begins seriously, pursing his lips, "she'll be happy to be alive." The words seem to double the gravity in the room, making the air heavy and cold around them. It's almost funny that Mello believes whatever admiration L has for him relies on his saving the life of an individual that is, frankly, almost insignificant.

Matt isn't really sure how to reply to that, so he focuses on his game.

* * *

Mello, on the other hand, is staring out the window, his eyes glazed over as he takes in the sights that Japan has to offer. Of course, the sights aren't in his head at all. Really, all he can think about are the facts he has at his disposal. He has the teacher's address, the location of task force headquarters, and all basic facts regarding Leila Hill's case.

The teacher is largely unimportant to him now. No, it's L that matters, and for whatever reason, that teacher seems to matter to him. It is simple: if Mello finds the teacher, someone that L apparently gives a shit about, he has an advantage over Near because he has really and truly done something for L.

It is why he can't fail.

Of course, truth be told, Mello has no idea how to start his own investigation. If the infamous Beyond Birthday is trying to surpass L once again, he will undoubtedly be in Japan. And Mello is sure that's what he aims to do. The question is where in Japan he will appear. Based off of the story that L once told some of his successors, Birthday is one for drastic action. So there's a chance that he will appear at the investigation headquarters, or at the place where the current Kira suspects are being held.

The cab stops in the proper city, but not particularly close to where Hill lived. This is exactly what Mello wanted, and he pays the confused looking fab jeans pulls Matt out before he can ask questions. "Uh, where are we?" Matt asks as the cab speeds off.

"About a mile away from the apartment," Mello replied. He begins walking right away, and Matt simply sighs and takes out his GameBoy. Mello frowns, wondering if it was a mistake to bring Matt. The guy's an awesome friend, but he never puts down his game. It could prove to be s distraction.

"Cool," Matt replies finally. "So do you know where her key is?"

"No," Mello answers simply. "I'll pick the lock. No doubt it's the same standard lock on any apartment door. It won't be difficult." He makes a right turn, grabbing Matt's arm to direct him since he isn't paying attention to anything. Then he glances down at his phone. _Thank God for Google Maps._

"And what am I here for?" Matt questions, stumbling along behind him. Mello does know that Matt's enthusiasm for the investigation is limited, but it's no matter. As long as Matt has something to do and they aren't put in the way of a direct threat, he'll be happy.

"You'll hack into the cameras at the task force headquarters," Mello explains, wishing that he had done so earlier. Even for a genius, focusing on two entirely different things at the same time is a stretch. Making sure they're headed in the right direction and answering Matt's questions is putting Mello's head in a whirl, but even on the little things like this, he is determined to continue. "There's a chance Birthday will show up there. Then he could lead us to Hill."

"Or her body," Matt suggests soberly.

Mello yanks on he other boy's arm and turns to scowl at him. "That isn't funny."

"I know it isn't, but Mello. This is Beyond Birthday we're tal -"

"It isn't funny."

The rest of the walk is quiet, between the two of them, anyways. The street noise around them is ever present, as is the chat of the other pedestrians. But the silence only lasts the twenty minutes it takes them to find Hill's place, and when they stand in front of her newly opened door, the silence is broken.

"This place is a mess," Matt mutters, almost in awe. And it is. There's a blanket trailing from the couch and over the coffee table. The TV remote is in the middle of the floor, and snack wrappers are all over the place. Really, it's lucky that the place isn't littered with mouse droppings.

Several piles of books and clothes lean into the corners of the room, and all the doors are ajar. It's off-putting, really. Mello had not imagined that Hill would be such a slob. She seemed too well put together for that. "Who knew chicks could be this messy?" Matt adds.

"Whatever. We can clean it up if we need to," Mello says, knowing that he sounds less than willing to do so. He glances across the room at the kitchen, which will possibly reveal the last time anyone had been here. Matt seemed to be thinking the same thing, since he'd wandered over to the frodge.

"All of the food's spoiled," he reports. "It wouldn't really make sense for Beyond to bring her here, anyways. You remember Beyond too, right? He wasn't that stupid."

That is part of what makes the LABB Serial Murder Cases such a terrifying story to the Wammy's House orphans. Many of them had known Beyond personally. After all, they'd all lived together. Yes, Beyond had been several years older than both Matt and Mello, but the had still known him. They'd watched his sanity take a downward spiral up until the day that he disappeared.

It makes those murders seem so personal.

"No, he wasn't," Mello agrees, filling the silence that had formed. "He might not even be in the city. Still, we can expect that he'll make some kind of move soon."

"Right. You brought the laptop, didn't you?" Matt asks even as Mello pulls it from his own suitcase and set it on the kitchen counter. He'd slid his carry-on bag into his suitcase in the cab, and had nearly forgotten about it until now. "Cool. I'll work on getting access to the surveillance cameras at HQ."

"Good," Mello mutters, examining an empty NutriGrain bar wrapper sitting on the counter. "I have a feeling we'll need it." And he does, too. He remembers that Beyond used to make trouble just because he knew no one would be able to pin it on him. Somehow, Mello knows that he will appear at task force headquarters even if he doesn't think there's anything to be found there. To someone like Beyond Birthday, doing something like that in a place where L had found even temporary sanctuary would be like some kind of victory. It would send a message: _You aren't safe, L, and I'm still better than you._

Matt's fingers tapping against the keyboard, a fast-paced clicking that fills the room, is only background noise to Mello's thoughts. Task force headquarters, and what else? _What other areas need to be carefully examined? Where will someone like Beyond stay when he gets here?_ Mello begins to wonder if Beyond will even seek out a shelter. Even the cheapest of hotels are expensive here. It's why he and Matt have hijacked Hill's apartment. And, as clever as Beyond may be, Mello doubts that he has much money on him.

And that's when it hits Mello. Beyond doesn't need to pay for space. There are millions of people here in Japan, and it's more than likely that some of them will never be missed if they were to disappear.

Beyond Birthday will not rent space. He'll kill for it.

* * *

Near had spent the past several hours rebuilding his long, winding path of dominoes. Of course, that wasn't all he had been doing. Near had been deep in thought, as always. When L had involved him in this case, although Near was unsure of why the teacher was so important, Near became permanently involved. It was too intriguing to walk away from, especially now that he was aware of Beyond Birthday's involvement in the case.

Near remembered everything about that teacher. Everything from her approximate height to her personality is implanted in his mind. Admittedly, he doesn't know if he really was seeing her real personality. After all, she was there teaching them how to lie, and how to pretend.

Still, he remembers marking her as a very careful person, and he decides that, much like he told Roger, she was fair. Not only that, but u for someone who was to teach them how to be dishonest, she was true to her word. She didn't seem to distinguish between Near or anyone else in class, just as she'd said at the beginning. Most of Near's teachers, guests or no, allowed him to do what he pleaded in their classes because he was successful even when he failed to pay attention.

_Perhaps it was Hill's mix of conflicting traits that had intrigued me,_ Near thinks and he places the final domino on the floor. This time, he is the one that pushes that final domino over, and he is the one that gets to listen to the satisfying clatter of plastic against the floor as the rest of them fall.

And then, with timing that is all too perfect, Roger appears. He steps over the piles of dominoes and advances on Near, who looks up from his perch on the floor at the frustrated man. "Near," the old man calls, stress evident in his voice, "do you have any idea where Mello is?"

Near raises his eyebrows in thought, but finally answers, "No, I don't. Is there a problem?"

"No," snapped the old man, disappearing from the room in almost an instant. Near simply shook his head. Perhaps Roger should have made use of Hill's lying class. He isn't very good at it.

And if Mello has disappeared, like Near guesses based off of Roger's behavior, Near knows exactly where he's gone.

* * *

L is rapidly becoming desperate.

The last time L needed to track down Beyond, Beyond left hints and clues because it was all a test. But this time, it wasn't a test, and Beyond wasn't leaving clues.

L had personally examined the records kept by every major airport in the country. He had carefully examined all information available regarding anyone traveling to Japan. But there was no one who resembled Leila or Beyond in any way.

L has to consider that Beyond was still in the country, but it really didn't seem in any way plausible. Beyond had always aimed to defeat L, and he could hardly do that by sitting around in England.

Besides that, if Beyond did not go to Japan, for whatever reason, the likelihood that Leila was dead rose almost unimaginably. Everything Leila knows about L comes from the Kira case, and if Beyond is not pursuing Kira, she is essentially useless to him.

Part of the reason that L feels himself falling into a blind panic was that, even if they had somehow arrived in Japan, he can't find a record of it. In other words, the only way to find out if Leila was in Japan is to literally find either her or Beyond. Unfortunately for L, he is so ill that Roger will not allow him to go to Japan. Wammy's essentially owne him. They provide for him, handle his money, and are now funding his medical treatment. As a result, L can't exactly disregard Roger's wishes. There is too much at stake, and besides, Roger was right. If L does stumble across Beyond, or any threat, he is too weak to defend himself.

So L begins to consider the idea that Beyond may have found a way to get to Japan undetected. He wouldn't have gone by boat; it would take far too long. As a result, the only plausible method of transportation was by air.

L wondered if Beyond had gone to a smaller airport instead of the major ones that L had looked into, but most of those would not have done such a long flight, and most smaller airports didn't have passenger planes, anyways.

So, another possibility arose.

Perhaps Beyond had not gone to Japan.

L feels his heart racing as he picks up the pile of papers that he had discarded earlier. He isn't sure what he fears; whether it's that he will find Beyond in this stack of papers and not Leila, or whether he'll find neither of them.

Somehow, though, L is lucky. Luckier than he's been in weeks now.

The files are organized by the destination of the passenger in alphabetical order, and by the passengers' last names. L hasn't even gone halfway through the stack before he finds Leila's picture. Her hair is still Light red and frizzy, her expression serious. It's a new picture, not the one from any of her old passports. That means she was alive... when the flight left in the early hours of the previous evening, before guards were posted in the local airports.

L doesn't go much further into the stack before he finds a certain Rue Ryuzaki, whose picture shows Beyond. It's clear to L that his face is caked in makeup, but that is only because L knows about the burns running up and down his body. Really, it's difficult to spot the makeup in the photo.

Still, it isn't hard to spot that Beyond is still mocking him. L can see the collar of his white shirt, and Beyond is wearing grey contacts. The makeup pales his skin, too, but the bags under his eyes are real. He's even using that name:_ Rue Ryuzaki_.

Perhaps Beyond is leaving clues, after all. Perhaps he still desires L's attention. L's knuckles turn white and the paper crumples as he grips it tightly. _That can certainly be arranged, Beyond._

It is immensely clear to L now. Beyond knows that, at the very least, L's associates will be doing all they can to find Leila. He's trying to throw them off now, and he decided that the best way to do so was to fly through another country.

But, almost as suddenly as the problem is solved, another arises.

What were they doing in France? More than likely, they would simply take another plane to Japan from Paris, or else they would make a few more stops in between. So L contacts the airport and acquires all records of ticket purchases in the last couple of days.

Once again, no one resembling Beyond or Leila appears in any of the records.

But L remembers his earlier problem, when he overlooked something insignificant, and tells himself to calm down. Much like there were places that Beyond might have initially visited besides Japan, there were also other ways that he could travel now. Beyond took a flight to France to throw L off. Perhaps now he would drive to a different airport to throw him off.

But there again rose another problem. If the game was going to be cat-and-mouse like this, he would not be able to catch up to Beyond unless the other man slipped up.

And Beyond would not makes any mistakes.

L chews on the flesh of his thumb, where the skin is slightly calloused from years of being bitten. He'd always done that when he was thinking especially hard, like right now. It seemed that he would have to stop the chase and simply meet Beyond at his final destination, which would almost certainly be Japan. Still, he has the horrible feeling that he is sacrificing something important by doing that.

_But what is that?_ What could he be sacrificing by doing the logical thing?

Perhaps... there is a risk that something horrible will happen before Leila and Beyond reached Japan. But it is only a small chance, and what would it be, anyways? Beyond was a killer, and it was a possibility that he would murder her. I doubt he will do anything like that before he reaches Japan, though.

L does not want to think about that risk any longer. After all, as he keeps reminding himself, the risk is quite small. So he turns his mind back to Japan, and the places that Beyond is likely to appear.

As much as he hates to think about it, there is a possibility that Beyond has persuaded Leila to reveal certain compromising intelligence regarding the investigation. As a result, he is almost certain that Beyond Birthday will turn up somewhere important to the investigation. A task force member's home, perhaps, or investigation headquarters. Maybe even the prison where Light and Misa are being kept, although L never told Leila its exact location.

L becomes immediately aware that first and foremost, the facility where those two are being held must be protected. In fact, they should probably be moved. But in order for that to happen, he would need to give orders to the task force, or at least tell them why a move would be taking place.

But that isn't an option because the task force will ask him how he's still alive, and hey might try to contact Leila about it, something he cannot allow. As a result, revealing himself is not an option.

And that's when it hits him: the only solution that could really work in this situation. L can't reveal himself, but his successor can.

Unfortunately, L does not yet know who his successor is. All this time, it has come down to Near and Mello. They're as different as night and day, and it's these differences that make it so hard to choose between them. Mello is incredibly sociable and skilled with people, a trait that even L lacks. Not only that, but he's outgoing and will do anything he can to achieve a goal. But Near is monumentally cleverer, and creative in a way that Mello is not.

L has always thought that they would work well together, but the same differences that make it difficult to choose between them also seem to drive them apart. Truthfully, the entire reason he had them help with the case earlier was to see if they could effectively work together at all. He'd been monitoring them the entire time, and still thought they made an incredible team. Mello was so disagreeable around Near, though, that he doubted it would work longterm.

Near is undeniably smarter than Mello in terms of actual intelligence, but he lacks the drive to become involved with a case like I wish he would... it almost makes me think that -

"L."

The voice, Roger's, is breathless and comes not from the speakers of the laptop in front of him, but from the doorway. L turns slowly, so as not to further irritate his aching head, and looks at the clearly flustered man, frustrated that his thought process has been interrupted.

"L," the man responds, "Mello's run off."

* * *

"Matt," Mello calls, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He's sleeping on the couch, which is really comfortable considering that Hill was single and college age. She shouldn't have had the money for nice furniture but for her rich parents. Still, the apartment is chilly and he didn't get much sleep. No wonder there were blankets all over the apartment.

"Morning," Matt replies, and Mello sees that he is already awake. The house smells of cereal, which is a faint odor, but detectable. Mello rubs his eyes again and locks them on Matt. The brunette is standing at the counter with a bowlful of Cheerios, staring at a tablet.

"There's actually food here?" mutters Mello, pulling himself up and wandering over to Matt's side. "I was beginning to wonder if she was starving herself."

Matt simply shrugged and shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. "Well, all I can say is: thank God Cheerios never go bad. I went through all of her cabinets and found half a box of this and one Nutrigrain bar. Everything else was spoiled." He stuffs another spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth, and when he continues, soggy crumbs fall to the counter. "We'll have to make a grocery run soon, or we'll be living off of bread and water."

Mello scowls at the box of Cheerios and begins to eat them out of the bag. They're fowl, see - too bland for words - but he is starving. It's been something like seventeen hours since he last ate. "What kind of person doesn't keep food in the house?"

"You'd think she would at least keep some nonperishables," Matt agreea glumly. He pushes his spoon back into his bowl, only to find that it's empty, and walks away from the counter. "I've been conducting surveillance on the task force headquarters since I got up."

Mello perks up; he drops the box of Cheerios and they spill all over the floor, worsening the mess that was already there. "And?"

"Nothing," Matt answers, collapsing onto the couch and grabbing the TV remote. He switches it onto some kind of gaming station and locks his eyes on the screen, though Mello knows he isn't really watching it. "The task force members are none too sharp, though."

Mello simply rolls his eyes and leans into the counter. Of course they aren't clever. Most people are rather stupid, in his opinion.

"But here's the thing: they keep talking about someone called 'Ryuzaki'," Matt continues, glancing up at Mello.

Mello feels as if his heart has frozen in his chest. "Ryuzaki? Like -"

"No, one of them - he's the worst, and probably the youngest - has mentioned L a couple of times." Matt pauses, as if for effect, and the plows on. "I think L met with these people in person, Mello, and I think he's using Beyond's old alias."

_L met with the task force in person... could they have had something to do with the horrible condition he was in when I last saw him? He looked like he'd keel over any minute..._ Mello steps over the Cheerios on the floor and sits next to Matt on the couch. He wonders why L would have left the Kira investigation. After all, he had promised the orphans and the world that he would bring Kira to justice. Surely Mello's hero wouldn't lie about something so important...? "Why would he do that? If Beyond catches wind of that, he'll be pissed."

Matt glances in Mello's direction and purses his lips, as if he isn't quite sure what to say. "Well, I don't know when L first met with them. It might have been before Beyond escaped from prison."

"Maybe," Mello offers grudgingly.

"Look, Mello," Matt says, gripping his GameBoy, which is off for once, so tightly that the plastic shifts. "They... mentioned something else.." Mello watches the other boy's jaw shift, and notes that Matt's skin seems a bit pale.

"Which was...?" Mello prompts, growing impatient with the awkward silence that begins to fill the room. Whatever they 'mentioned', it's quite clear to Mello that it was important. And he doesn't appreciate Matt's hesitance to spread the word. If the information is critical, Mello needs to know.

"Well," Matt begins, clenching his jaw again. "They said that... L had a heart attack." It takes a moment for that to sink in. A heart attack? Kira caused heart attacks, didn't he? But they were always - "It was fatal, Mels. They said that he died."

There is another pause, in which Mello once again takes in the new and shocking information that he asked for. Fatal. He died.

Now, Mello has no doubt that L could easily take his own death of the need arose. But he thinks back on L's condition - that saggy, sallow skin, and how his face and hands had seemed so bony. Like he'd had a brush with death that he was still recovering from. Like he'd had a heart attack, and his body hadn't known how to handle it.

Yes, like that.

"Mello, are you sure that the person you met was actually L?" Matt continued finally, his voice quiet, as if something might break if he speaks any louder.

Mello begins to remember some things about Beyond Birthday. He was twenty when he left, and in the weeks before he'd disappeared, he had changed. Beyond had always been an insomniac, and had always had bruise-like bags underneath his eyes. But one day, probably the March before he left, Beyond had disappeared for a day. That day, everyone had been whispering about it. Some people thought he'd done something wrong and had been kicked out. After all, the only reason he'd still been at Wammy's at age twenty was because he was L's top successor. If he was no longer in line to succeed L, he would be forced to leave. But others thought that Beyond, a creepy introvert who seemed to shy away from people, but know everything about those he actually talked to before meeting them, had killed himself. Others thought he'd been in some kind of accident. But whatever the reason, no one seemed to think that he'd come back.

But he had. And when Beyond returned, it was as if he wasn't all there. Like a piece of him was missing, and had been replaced with something else. He'd suddenly started speaking to people more. He began sitting strangely, in this weird little crouch, and within a week his back had this odd hunch about it. He'd even started dressing differently - more plainly. The weirdest thing was that his eating habits changed. Before, he'd eaten like a normal person, but when he got back, he'd started obsessively eating things with strawberries in them. Then, finally, he'd started eating strawberry jam in large quantities, and though he didn't seem to enjoy it at first, it appeared to grow on him over time.

And then, within weeks, Beyond was gone. Disappeared.

In the story that L had told Mello and some of his other successors, Beyond had gone mad because he started to hate the hero he'd never really known, L.

But Mello is beginning to believe something very different. He remembers L's strange sitting position, and all the odd quirks that now made him think of Beyond. Beyond Birthday had met the same man as Mello, and that man had said he was L.

And somehow, Mello knew that no proxy would stick around for that long, and no proxy would be able to change Beyond that much. Though Mello loathes admit it, Beyond was cleverer than him. Cleverer that Matt. Cleverer that that twit, Near. If 'L' wasn't really L, Beyond would have known, and he wouldn't have adjusted his own lifestyles to match those of a proxy.

No, Mello has no doubt in his mind. He met L, the real L. "Yes," he answers simply, realizing that he has been quiet for a long time now, though the silence that had occupied the room hadn't been as uncomfortable as the one from before. "I am."

"Okay," Matt replies, sounding almost relieved. And Matt knows why - if he was uncertain, it would mean that L had failed. And even Matt, a teenage boy with little drive and no desire to become L, looked up to the man he'd never seen. If L was dead, everything would become radically different. "Well, regarding the task at hand. We need food."

"Agreed," Mello responds with a sharp nod, and his stomach growls with perfect timing. Maybe Hill had been starving herself. Admittedly, though, the more likely possibility is that she'd known she wouldn't be home and hadn't bothered to stock up on groceries. Still, he'd have thought there would be a can of beans or chicken or something. "Let's go."

And so the two head for the door, locking it as they go and beginning a glorious discussion about all the foods they would buy.

* * *

Near gently sits his laptop on the ground next to him and tugs his bag to his side. He is, of course, focused on the task at hand. L has given him an assignment, and he will complete that assignment.

His mind runs over everything that L had told him. L possessed one of Kira's killing weapons, a Death Note, but shortly after he had come into possession of it, Kira had attacked. And L had survived. Near knows there must be some reason, some way that this occurred, but he can't figure it out. The only idea that Near has been able to procure is a miracle, and Near does not believe in miracles.

L had also mentioned that he had personally revealed himself to the Kira task force, and that Leila Hill had been involved with that task force. But he had failed to say how, and Near found that intriguing.

_Personally involved._ Both he and Mello had predicted this correctly, at least, but Near still can't say how, exactly. It seems most likely that L would maintain a purely professional relationship, and Hill hadn't seemed like one for friendship, either. Still, would L, as an employer, really take note of his underling's hobbies? If that is a fact, Near recognizes that he has severely misjudged L in the past. But he doesn't think that is a fact.

Intriguing.

He pulls a toy robot out of his bag just in time to see a thin beam of light shining through the newly opened door. There is the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, and then the sound of something crinkling - a wrapper, perhaps.

And then Mello's voice: "What the hell are you doing here?"

* * *

_i released this update a lot later than I wanted to, but I had a really hard time writing it :(_

_Thanks for the reviews! I should have that one shot posted along with the next chapter (the fiftieth reviewer assigned me a prompt. It should be pretty interesting!)._


	23. Return

**Chapter 22**

* * *

**-3rd Person POV-**

* * *

Of all the ways that L could have responded to his escapade, it had never occurred to Mello that he would send... Near.

The grocery bag slips from his fingers and rolls around on the surface of the floor, making a clunking, crinkling noise all at once. "What the hell are you doing here?" he cries, his voice raised as he glares at the pathetic albino on the floor. Mello had never planned for Near to be here and his presence will ruin all the plans that he currently does have.

After all, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that L was or is very interested in how Near and Mello work together. After all, he had them find the perpetrator of Hill's case together and that had all been a test. If Near was here now, they were probably intended to work together.

But Mello is unhappy with this because his purpose here is for him to impress L in ways that Near cannot. _I won't be able to do it if the twit's working here with me._

Of course, there is also a chance that Near came here on his own, but it is minuscule and really not worth considering. In other words, Near was sent, and Mello has no choice but to put up with him. In the mind of the honey blonde, things could not be much worse. Once again, he was being forced to work with the boy he thought of as his rival, a boy for whom his hatred was so strong that even being in the room with him is nearly overwhelming.

Mello hears himself yelling at Near, but truthfully, no thought is put into the meaningless words. It is clear to him now that L is behind this, though he isn't sure whether it is to be an experiment or a punishment. Of course, this question is quickly answered when Near's response only further enrages Mello. "I would think," the colorless child answers from his spot where he lies stomach-down on the floor, lazily kicking his calves back and forth, "that you _should _be able to deduce that without my assistance, Mello."

The cursing that is soon to follow is drowned out only by Matt's panicked shout. Mello glances over to see him sitting in front of the laptop, which is once again turned on. HIs mouth is gaping, his eyes widened. Evidently something shocking has happened, and Mello cannot help but wonder just how bad it is.

If the kidnapped Hill, who thinks that L is dead, told Beyond Birthday about the supposed demise of L, Birthday is likely to think that it is safe to invade facilities that would have been watched by the man himself otherwise. Worst case is that Beyond has murdered the task force in order to access the information available at headquarters. That would not only be detrimental to the Kira investigation, but the likelihood is that it would make it more difficult to catch Beyond himself. I seems likely to Mello that beyond would clear every file from task force computers after stealing them, meaning that anyone looking for him wouldn't be able to use the stolen files to predict the killer's future moves.

"What is it, Matt?" Near says lazily, not even looking up from his goddamned robot. He crosses his calves and reaches into his bag, pulling out something small and rubbery looking, and then several other things equally small and rubbery looking. They're all eye-catching and colorful, but Mello tears his eyes from them in order to look at Matt.

"Yeah, what is it, Matt?" Mello echoes, scowling.

It is almost a relief when his brunette head turns to Mello instead of Near. It may be because they are friends, or because Matt wants someone who will look back at them instead of their toys or the floor. Still, the fact that _someone_, at least, looks to him instead of Near is pleasant, even when it's possible that the boys have a crisis on their hands. "Come here, look at this," Matt mutters, his amply widened eyes locking onto Mello's, who hurries over to his side. Matt reaches up to the laptop and cranks up the volume, causing Mello's ears, and Near's, to be filled with the suddenly loud and excited voice of Aizawa.

For whatever reason, he's shouting, and in the high-def pictures shown on the laptop screen, Mello can see that the man's face is twisted with rage. "- O YOU MEAN, THEY'RE GONE?"

Mello jumps back, slightly surprised at the yelling, but recovers quickly. He narrows his eyes at the screen, and then at Matt. "What -?"

"Shh," interrupts his teammate, glancing back at the screen.

A man with short black hair, its style held together with enough product for Mello to notice in the image, cowers in a chair nearby a counter in front of several monitors. He doesn't look truly fearful - just kind of cowardly. "I-I promise I watched the surveillance tapes really carefully this morning! I just… I just…"

"YOU JUST WHAT?" shouts the angry man, leaning towards the one with the greasy hair in an almost threatening manner. _Aizawa and Matsuda - those are their names_, Mello reminds himself. "YOU JUST DIDN'T NOTICE THAT YOU WERE WATCHING THEM DO THE SAME DAMN THINGS OVER AND OVER?"

"Aizawa, calm down," said the man Mello knows to be the senior Yagami, though he himself doesn't sound very calm at all. He looks almost panicked, as if something horrible really has gone wrong. But no one seems to be dead, and it takes Mello a few moments to put the pieces together.

It doesn't take Near that long. "Amane and Yagami are gone," he muses, and Mello takes a moment to glare at the boy as he plays with the rubbery things. Unfortunately, he can't say that near is wrong. Whoever is 'gone', the task force was conducting surveillance of them, evidently all the time. That surveillance was being played on a loop. And the only two people the task force has been watching like that are the confirmed first and second Kiras, Light Yagami and Misa Amane.

"Shh," Mello says instead, glaring at the monitor now, as if it is the computer's fault that Near was able to deduce the truth faster than him.

"- ized it was playing on a loop, s-so Mogi and I drove down," Matsuda - the man with greasy hair - is saying. His eyelids are flickering nervously as the chair rolls backwards, and Mello notes that he glances towards a very muscular man - Mogi - who nods in agreement. "They were gone, and there was nothing there to hint at how they'd escaped. The cameras and audio equipment weren't damaged in any way, either."

"How well did you search the place?" Aizawa asks. He is no longer yelling, but he still sounds irritated, as if Matsuda's screwup was against him personally.

"As well as we could in the time we had," Matsuda replies meekly.

"YEAH? AND HOW WELL WAS TH -" Matt turns the volume down immediately, cutting off Aizawa's ranting almost instantly. The room was silent for a moment, and Mello and Matt exchange glances.

Mello had been wrong. The deaths of the task force were not the worst things that could have happened. What has clearly occurred over the past few hours is much worse. Beyond Birthday, who is arguably the world's cleverest, most dangerous serial killer, now has both of the Kiras, one of which is also intelligent and both of which are also killers. As well as hindering the official Kira investigation even more than it already is, the gathering of these three dangerous killers doesn't seem to bode well for anyone.

Besides, assuming that Hill was still alive before the kidnapping of Light and Amane, is she now? Now that Beyond has accessed the Kiras, does he really need her intelligence anymore?

For whatever reason, when L and Mello spoke, and as far as Mello knows, L is after Hill right now, not Kira. Perhaps the great detective is still pursuing the active Kira in his small time, but based off of the detective's behavior, or all of it that Mello has been allowed to see, he isn't paying that particular investigation much attention. Mello can assume that this means the Kira case has gone almost cold, and as a result L has allowed his attention to shift. Otherwise, his idol has allowed his priorities to shift in a bad way because of the involvement of a woman. While understandable, it isn't something that Mello wants to think about his idol doing, and so he doesn't.

"Obviously we need to… conduct a more detailed search at the place where the Kiras were held," Mello says, rapidly improvising so that he will have a chance to speak before Near.

"That is reasonable," Near agrees, and in spite of the fact that Near is only affirming Mello's statement, he feels a burning hatred in his gut.

"Good point," Matt says fairly. "I can hack into the surveillance cameras there, although you can see all of the images I can access from the cameras we have at HQ," he says, motioning to the current image shown on the laptop. Mello can see not only the men arguing, but also the screens showing looped images of Yagami and Amane in the background.

"Surveillance images aren't a way to conduct a thorough search, though," Mello sighs, pressing his hand into his face.

"Mello," Matt answers, narrowing his eyes, "it isn't as if we have the means to actually search the place. We don't know where it is."

Mello doesn't have time to make a sharp reply, because Near cuts in with, "I do."

* * *

Perhaps if Near was as spiteful as Mello, it would be more amusing to observe the exasperated look on the other boy's face upon hearing that Near possesses valuable information that he will, in fact, need. This not only means that he cannot brush Near off so easily, but it also means that Mello must be willing to go so far as to cooperate with him.

But Near is less amused than he is glad. Working on this case itself will prove entertaining, and having some leverage will allow him to do that.

"You do," Mello repeats, sounding nearly pained. Of course he does not want to admit that he needs Near's help. But he does, and he will. He has no other choice, because Near has him cornered.

No - L has him cornered. This is only possible because _L _wants Kira defeated. Only possible because _L _wants Beyond Birthday caught. Because _L _\- _it all comes down to him, in the end _\- wants that teacher back. Near is simply cooperating with his wishes, not only because he wants to be someone of importance, but because there is no choice. Near cannot say no. _L is far too significant for denial from a young, unimportant boy like myself._

It is why, for Near, L is so easy to dislike. One of the reasons, anyways.

"Yes, I know," Near replies softly. _There is still a chance that Mello will not allow me to assist… but it's a very small chance. _"I know the exact location, layout of the facility, and every room in which any has ever stayed."

"Mello," Matt says, "he could help."

"Yeah…" Mello muttered, quietly stroking his bottom lip and squeezing his mouth into a tight line. "He _could…_"

Near smiles_. Even Mello has to see reason sometimes._

* * *

Near desperately grips the arms of the carseat, his breaths becoming short and rapid. "I would prefer that -"

"Prefer that _what_, Near? That _you _drive?" Mello spat, leaning forward and turning the key, starting the ignition.

"No, but you are certainly not eligible to drive. If you are caught, we'll be arrested. And if we aren't arrested, we'll likely be kille -"

"Near! Just shut up. We have to get there and we can't hire a driver. So just tell me where the fuck we're headed!"

The conversation has been dragged along for an hour and Mello still insist that he drive. Near is not feeling particularly confident about this; he's been in a car fewer times than he's been on a plane, and all of those times he has been with a licensed, professional driver. And no matter how hard Near tries, he simply cannot muster the same confidence in Mello as he can a professional. In fact, his worry is so intense that he feels his intelligence has been greatly diminished. _I will be lucky if I can actually remember how to reach the prison…_

"Yes," Near gasps. "Of course." And with that, Mello accelerated at a frightening pace and Near felt his body jerk into the soft back of the car seat.

"Uh, Meeeelllllllllllsssssss," Matt exclaims, leaning back into his own seat. "Maybe we should, uh, slow down?"

"No!" exclaims Mello, and Near wonders if it is possible to be _to _passionate about something.

"Tuh-Turn left," Near instructs, and wipes the back of his hand against his mouth, as if it will ease his sudden development of motion sickness.

When Near doesn't throw up, it's surprising to Matt. He can't remember the last time someone's face turned such a sickly pea green - outside of cartoon

* * *

s and videogames, of course. Besides that, the way the sickly pale kid was gripping the arms of his chair, tight enough to whiten them even further, definitely seemed to suggest that he _felt _like losing his lunch.

"We're here," Near mutters, looking at Matt in a new and blatant refusal to meet Mello's eyes. Matt chuckles in spite of himself. _If Near didn't have a problem with Mello before, he probably does now._

"Good," Matt answers, deciding that Near was actually talking to him and not at him. "Mello, gimme the laptop." Mello chucked the laptop to the backseat and Matt caught it, opening it up and switching the screen on so he could see the surveillance. "Okay. The loop's still going, but I can see what's actually happening. And it's definitely a danger, but I turned off the jammers."

"Matt," Mello says, and Matt has to struggle not to let his voice fade out. It's clear that he is about to complain or make some stupid suggestion, and Matt really doesn't want to hear any of it. "Why can't you just adjust the jammer so that we can have technological connections in and out of the building but no one else can?"

"Oh my _God, _Mello," Matt replies, "I already told you that, for whatever reason, Near wasn't given complete access to this stuff. I mean, it makes sense. L is alive because he's paranoid." He gingerly rubs his temples and then places his fingers on the keyboard, though he really has nothing to do but monitor.

"Okay, Near," Mello grumbles, throwing a Bluetooth mic and speaker at Near and pulling one out of the bag that held equipment for himself. "Let's go."

"Perhaps it would be best if I stayed to monitor the video feed," Near suggests, letting the communication equipment dangle from his fingertips, as if he is less than sure about using it. Or touching it, for that matter.

Matt would have agreed, under normal circumstances. After all, someone as scrawny and sickly-looking as Near is clearly not meant for field work. The boy is weak from lack of exercise, and he can't spend much more than a couple of hours in the sun without burning. He is not fast, or nimble, or athletic. He is only clever and requires others to put his ideas into practice.

But, unfortunately, Near also lacks the skill with computers that Mello predicted might be necessary during this... mission. Either that, or Mello doesn't trust Near not to pull something stupid if he was left on his own. Truth be told, Matt doesn't, either. Near has a way about him. Sometimes he knows exactly what he's doing even when no one else does, and obviously that could force almost anyone into a compromising position. But Matt _does _trust himself, so instead of offering to work the field, he says, "Near, just shut up and go already. Time's limited."

Near raises his eyebrows, but in an instant, Mello has jerked him out of the vehicles and left Matt in a comfortable silence.

_Thank God. _Matt leans over the seat and grabs the laptop, which he carefully sits on the seat next to him. He then reaches into the equipment bag and pulls out his DS.

Mello told him not to bring it, but Matt has never been overly compliant and found a way to sneak it into the bag. Besides, he knows he can monitor the screen even with the game on. Not that he'll really need to as there's nothing dangerous to be seen on the monitors right now. He doubts this mission will produce anything of importance, really. Beyond Birthday does not leave evidence. It would be below him to make such a stupid mistake.

Matt rubs his thumb across the cool blue surface of the DS before switching it on and tapping the screen. Soon, the car is filled with the sound of the theme music to Super Mario 64. He winces and switches of the sound. _If Mello hears that over the speaker, he'll kill me._

He's already beat the game several times, but he fondly remembers this particular game as the first DS game he ever played. It's a classic to him. Almost as Classic as Atari. "I think I'll go for the boss fight this time," he decides, running Mario up several flight of stairs and to the course that leads his to what is the last and arguably the greatest Bowser battle.

Mello is the one that first introduced him to video games. When he arrived at Wammy's, Mello had already been there for some time. They bonded over Gameboys. As Matt throttles a piranha flower, he grins at the memory. _If only I'd known what I was getting into._

And then, with a jolt, he realizes that it's been fifteen minutes and Mello is probably expecting him to say something soon. He drops his DS into his lap and watches Bowser shove Mario into the abyss they're fighting over. Then he - less than gingerly - pulls the laptop overtop of it.

The surveillance shows… _nothing._

An empty building, and empty rooms. Nothing.

Matt swallows. Fifteen minutes - they should have been there by now. And Mello had been surprisingly quiet. Certainly he would have said something by now. Mello isn't the quiet type. "Mello?" Matt says. "Mello!"

* * *

"Mello!" Matt's staticky voice echoes in Mello's head again, and he growls in frustration. "_Yes, _Matt?"

"Mello!"

"_Yes, Matt?"_

"I believe there is a possibility that, for whatever reason, our connection is broken," Near offers, sounding almost cheerful about it. Mello scowls at him. _Damn jackass probably did this on purpose._

"Well, we'll just have to go on without him, won't we?" he replies coldly, sneering at the albino boy next to him as they move to the next room. He has no doubt that Near screwed with the laptop. Hacked it, or something. For all Mello knows, he can somehow control it from here. "Near," he snaps, suddenly taken by an idea.

"Yes?" Near responds eagerly.

"Give me your cell phone." The other boy hesitantly pulls a small, simple flip phone from his pocket and hands it over. Mello smirks and cranks up the volume.

"_Mellomellomello -"_

"Matt?" Mello says over Matt's constant calling. No response. "Jesus. This is ridiculous," he murmurs, shoving the phone back into Near's open palm. He slams the heel of his hand into the next door, slamming it into the wall of the hallway it leads to and causing a banging noise to echo throughout the building. It strikes him that he should probably be more quiet even if Matt does have a loop playing at HQ. "Matt!"

"MELLO MELLO MELLO…"

Once again, his only response is silence, and Near follows him into the hallway, seeming miserable all the while. "This mission may not be safe if we cannot make contact with Matt," Near points out, looking as if he wants to go no further.

"Meeeeeeeellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooo -"

"No," Mello snaps, and is about to say more when Matt's voice finally says something in response.

"So that was it," says the awed voice of his buddy.

"What was it?" Mello snaps, walking carefully to the first door in the hallway. It is the hallway that held both Misa Amane and Light Yagami. If there is any evidence to be found it is probably here, and was probably left by Leila Hill. While this evidence could possibly incriminate L's… friend, it could at least lead them to her. Not to mention the Kiras and the notorious Beyond Birthday.

"Oh, Mello, it's you!" Matt exclaims, sounding overjoyed.

"Uh, yes, it's me," Mello says with a roll of his eyes and stops in his tracks. He glances back at Near, who is listening interestedly but doesn't really look guilty or disappointed.

"The, uh, the laptop was muted," Matt explains, and then pauses. Then, his voice almost baffled, he adds, "Have you two reached the building yet?"

"Yes," Mello answers, raising his eyebrow and glancing irritably at Near.

"Are you in the building?"

"Yes, we are," Near answers, suddenly sounding a little afraid. "Why, Matt?"

"You, uh, I can't see you," Matt mutters.

"Matt!" Mello snaps, enraged. "Were you playing one of those stupid games?"

"Uh -"

"Matt, is it possible that there is a remaining loop from when Beyond broke in?" Near asked calmly, glancing at the first of the three doors in the hallway, as if something might leap from them.

"Oh, uh," Matt says, and then there's silence. "Maybe…"

"Can you get rid of it?" Mello asks, feeling a sense of dread wash over him. Their lives are at risk now. Perhaps he should have left Near at the monitors.

"Uh," Matt says, sending Mello into a stream of swearing. _If I hear the word 'uh' one more time, I'll… _"Uh, uh, guys. I ca - I can see you now. You, uh, you see that second door, right? Uh, Near's standing by it."

"Yes," Near says, backing away from the door just like the pathetic coward he truly is. "Why, Matt?"

"Uh, go in there. But be careful, there's, um…"

Mello does not let him finish. Instead he pushes open the second door to find what is very possibly the most horrific scene he has even encountered in person. The room reeks of so much copper that he wishes to vomit. To run away. The walls are streaked with dried, browning blood alongside brighter red streaks. Mello swallows. "The fuck," he mutters, walking in and stepping over a dried patch of blood that must have belonged to a Kira. _Not all of this is dry. They m -_

"It appears that they left recently," Near points out not entering the room and making a horrible gagging noise. He leans over and breathes in short, painful sounding gasps.

Mello turns sharply to face the ill-stricken boy. "Don't throw up," he hisses. "You'll leave behind DNA." Near just gasps some more, but doesn't gag again. "At least you don't have to sweep this room for evidence. You check the others."

Near is gone in less than a second, and Mello smiles at the bloody room.

He pulls a stretchy pair of white gloves onto his long-fingered hands and begins to walk around the room, avoiding the small puddles and dried patches of red and brown. His black leather shoes are expensive and there is no use in soiling them with the blood of a filthy murderer. He runs his eyes over everything, especially the wet places, in the hopes of finding a hair or a shred of clothing.

And then, suddenly, a sound so disgusting that it makes Mello want to vomit is transmitted over the earpiece. It's a wet noise, and Matt, who can see whatever it is, comments. "Near, that's so gross! What is it?"

The wet noise lasts a few more seconds before it stops, and there is the sound of the same panting from earlier. "It's a blind spot," Near mutters. "A blind spot. There seemed to be and inconsistency is the drywall and I… I examined it."

"And?" Mello asks, already out of the hallway and pulling the door to the first room open. It is completely clean, and he leaves the door hanging open as he runs to the third room. The door is slightly ajar and he pulls it open slowly, almost dreading what he'll find. Or what Near has already found, anyways.

And it doesn't take long to see what Near has found : twenty fingers, separated from the hands they belonged to with some kind of blade. "I haven't examined these very closely," Near mutters, his head still buried in his small hands, "but I believe the blade used was serrated."

Mello glances at Near and then at the floor beside him, where a massive puddle of vomit sits and stinks up the room. "You want to become a detective but you can't take some fingers?"

"Photographs are different," Near gasps as he used his own gloved hands to pick up the fingers and look at them more closely. Mello agrees, though he doesn't say it out loud. He's certainly seen things far more disgusting than this, but this is his first up-close-and personal crime scene.

"At least I didn't throw up," he says out loud, drawing a look from Near and uneasy laughter from Matt.

"So," Matt says, "the cops searched this place and they certainly didn't find any blood."

"That is correct," Near agrees. "They most likely hid somewhere after silencing Amane and Yagami. They then came back here to… torture one of both of them and then cut off their fingers."

"Are you absolutely certain they are no longer in this building?" Mello asks, suddenly terrified by the idea that Beyond Birthday might still be here. What will he do if he finds them? Will he cut off their fingers? Kill them and leave their bodies as some sick message to L?

"Yes," Matt stresses. "The old loop is cleared. I removed it right after, um, I unmuted you guys. HQ is still viewing the loop, but I can see the entire building in complete clarity. HD and all."

"Good," Mello sighs. "Near, put back the fingers."

Near puts back the fingers without a single complaint. In fact, he looks rather glad to part with them.

* * *

**-Leila's POV-**

* * *

The room is small and dark, and the door won't open. It's all I know.

For whatever reason, I can't remember the last couple of hours. My thoughts are scattered; my head aches.

From what I can tell, the room is about sixteen square feet with each wall being four feet. The door is to my left - I can feel the frame, but it won't open.

I am alone. Beyond is not here. _Did he leave me?_

I am not claustrophobic. Closed spaces, tight and suffocating, don't frighten me. Neither does the fact, I generally relish it. So it isn't either of those things that are causing my elevated pulse. Maybe it's the fact that I _should have known _this would happen. I should have known that Beyond would either kill me or leave me to die somewhere when he got what he needed.

Of course, he hadn't needed much. I rather hesitantly filled him in on the goings on of the case, and the Death Notes, and the task force. I hadn't known anything else - things like location and names had been kept quiet from me, and everyone else, for that 'd only found those because of Beyond's ability to hack. Beyond, though I loath admit it, is clever. Cleverer than me and probably just as clever and L. He probably didn't even need me in the first place.

_That building. _The last thing I remember was there. But it all seems surreal, and I'm not sure that it actually all, there are some things I would never do. That's why I must assume that the memory that it was just a nightmare caused by the addled brain of a person who had just been drugged or knocked out.

I push the 'memory' aside and begin to feel the walls again. Even if the door won't open, there might be another way out.

But as the palms of my hands skim over the smooth surfaces of the walls and doors trapping me, I lose hope quickly. The door is made of something cold and smooth, like metal or polished wood. I have about as much chance of knocking that over as I do the cement walls that make up the rest of my prison.

I sigh and turn away, sinking slowly and miserably to the chilled floor beneath me. Unless I am found, I'll slowly starve to death over a matter of days. And that's only if I don't have to worry about oxygen. I run my fingers across the base of the door and am relieved to feel a quarter-inch gap. _I won't have to worry about suffocation, apparently._

Still, it worries me that even I don't know my exact location. After all, this room isn't even vaguely familiar to me. If I am somewhere that I don't know and have no business being, why would someone look for me here? Should I be preparing to die?

That's what has my pulse up.

Perhaps I should be crying. Maybe tears should be streaming freely down my cheeks as I mourn my ridiculously short, painful, worthless, misery-filled life and the torturous end it is sure to come to. Instead, I plant my head in my arms and gingerly rub my fingers against my temples. All I want is for the constant throbbing in my head to go away. It seems hopeless, but maybe, just _maybe, _I'll be able to think my way out of this. But there's no way it's going to happen if my head seems on the brink of exploding.

So I try. I try to remember.

We came to this place from behind and walked a miles or so to get here. When we got inside, beyond and I discovered that it was relatively simple:clusters of hallways and rooms that would eventually lead to finding Light and Misa. That was the hope, but I don't remember finding them. In fact, all I have is that blurry memory, which I'm sure didn't happen because I wouldn't allow it.

I don't want to dwell on that particular memory. It's too odd, and too unlikely.

I stick my fingers into the crack under the door and tug to see if it will shake at all. If that's the case, it means that it will open in as opposed to open out into the hallway. No luck - it remains stationary and firm, which means that it is either locked in place or it opens the other way. I slam my back into the door. It's painful and doesn't change anything, and I realize that it was just me letting my temper take control. I've become an idiot. I'm angry. I'm _going to die. _"Fuck!" I scream, slamming the back of my head into the door again and causing the pain to double.

And then, much to my surprise, someone screams. There's a banging noise in the hallway and suddenly a dim light shines through the crack in the door. _A flashlight, maybe? _The light seemed to move away before becoming brighter again, and I swallow. Have I been found by friend or by enemy? The risks are great. If it's Beyond, he may be here to kill me.

But why would Beyond scream? If he put me here, he has no reason to be shocked. It is, of course, a possibility that he has Light or Misa with him. But that screaming didn't sound like any of them. I crawl towards the back wall and glance underneath the crack. There are shadows - two pairs of feet. Two people.

"Shut up," says one of them for no apparent reason. The voice is a familiar one, but I can't remember exactly who it is. I know I should. Whoever they are, they were very… memorable. I can imagine the voice yelling. Frustrated. Prideful.

I slam my palm against the door. "Mello?"

He swings the door open without a moment's hesitation. "Shit," he mutters.

Near is next to him. He looks small and terrified next to his bolder counterpart, who takes a cautious step forward and begins examining me closely, as if he doesn't quite believe I'm here. "Miss Hill?" Near mutters, remaining quite stationary as he aims the flashlight in his hand at the wall behind me. "How exactly did you get here?"

"More importantly, is Beyond still here?" Mello says, squatting down next to me and glaring into my brown orbs with his own.

"I don't know," I mutter, running my hands through my hair.

"We should contact -" Mello begins.

"Roger," Near finishes, leaving me confused but compliant.

"We're still at the prison," I say, glancing up and down the clean, white-walled hallways. I can't exactly tell the difference between this particular hall and any other, but at least I sort of know where I am now. The question becomes _how long have I been here _and though I can't answer it, I suspect Mello and Near probably can. "Date and time," I demand.

"October 18, 13:42," Near informs me, and I nod. We left our vehicle behind seven hours ago. I have probably been out for at least four hours.

"We should get a doctor," Mello declares bossily.

"We should contact Roger," Near corrects. "We have excellent doctors in England."

"Please contact Roger," I say coldly, suddenly having no interest in staying in Japan. Beyond has the Kiras and it is my fault. Light knows where the notebook is. What if he tells Beyond? Such weapons in the hand of such evil could never be good. In fact, it probably means that I am walking dead. He knows my name. Why would he leave me alive? I'm a loose end.

"We'll contact Roger," agrees Mello. "Matt, contact Roger." I suddenly notice that they are both wearing Bluetooths. It is clear that they are using them to contact someone - possibly whoever led them here. A child, probably, as Mello seems the type to refuse the help of an adult. In fact, it seems a stretch that he'd ask anyone's help. A muffled voice answers Mello's orders, and he nods for me to follow.

I glance back at the small room as I go and take it as a warning. I shouldn't be so trusting anymore. It may well get me killed.

* * *

**-3rd Person POV-**

* * *

When the call came in, L was in bed.

L rarely made use of beds. Usually, when he wanted to sleep, he simply sat and fell into a light sleep whilst into his usual crouch. He was always on guard, even while sleeping. But Roger was not like Wammy, who had understood - or at the very least _accepted _\- all of L's quirks, and Roger insisted that he 'lie down' for several hours a day. To L, it was a waste. He needed to find Kira, and he needed to find Leila. He did _not _ have time to be idle, but the early days of her disappearance, in which he'd slept none at all in his desperate searching, had earned him a bedtime. At the age of twenty-five, it was nothing less than humiliating.

Roger even took his laptop and hid it away somewhere, so L is left anxious in that quiet upper room of Wammy's. All alone until, at last, after what L is sure has been several hours, Roger stomps up the stairs. Feeling almost juvenile, the raven curls into a ball beneath the covers and mimes sleeping. The last thing he wants is for Roger to harp on him about his excessive health problems, including his insomnia, but that is exactly what will happen if Roger sees him sitting up and awake.

In fact, something very different happens. L suddenly feels himself being shaken 'awake' by Roger, and the room fills with an unnatural sense of urgency. He sits up immediately, his heart beating rapidly as he meets Roger's suddenly feels nauseous; he's worried they've found a body.

_Who is it? One of the boys? A Kira or Beyond? Perhaps it is Leila. _He corrects his posture as much as he can and nods. He can sense Roger's anxiety, anxiety that doesn't seem to bode well at all.

"L," Roger begins, glancing at L and then at the doorway, as if he wishes he could leave. _Is the news really that bad? _"The boys… found fingers."

L's stomach feels as if it is writhing in his gut and he swallows, pushing aside the painful distraction. He takes a deep, silent breath and nods. _Fingers. It is certainly Beyond's work. A message? _"Whose fingers, Roger?" he asks flatly, because Roger does not and cannot be allowed to know the levels of his concern.

"There were twenty fingers," Roger states by way of expanding his earlier statement, "belonging to Misa Amane and Light Yagami. The boys left them on the scene. The task force will probably find them shortly." All this only draws a nod from L. _A message, indeed. Cutting off the fingers of those who kill by writing - I'm sure Beyond considers that method cowardly. This is probably symbolic for him. Or course, this means that Light and Misa are no longer threats by themselves… _

"It is clear that Beyond is in Japan," L deadpans, glancing out of the window and into the bleak light of a cloud day. "We will need to find out how he got there and any places he may have been since his arrival." He bites down on his thumbnail as he sinks into his own thoughts._Now that it is certain Beyond is in Japan, we may actually be able to effectively track him. If that is the case, we'll find Leila and the Kiras, assuming they are still alive. We will still have the third Kira to worry about, but…_

"Yes, of course," Roger agrees, bringing him down to earth in an sudden reality of everything bring something else to mind: if Beyond is in Japan, both of his potential heirs are in very real danger. Not to mention Matt, who is not an heir, but is essential in assuring the cybersecurity of Wammy's House and occasionally L's computers.

"I also want the boys back at the House," he orders, "now."

He almost expects to be reprimanded by Roger, who doesn't like children or anyone under thirty, really - especially not when they have it in their head that they can order him about. But, much to L's surprise, Roger says, "Yes, actually. That's another thing you needed to be made aware of. They are on their way now." L nods again and begins to lie back down as Roger continues. "Yes, they're on a plane now and claim to have found that missing teacher. She's with them, L."

* * *

_Wow! I took so, so long to update this! I'm so sorry :(  
I wrote this chapter really slowly - I had a hard time with it for some reason - but the one shot I promised I'd post with it took even longer. On the bright side, I did post the oneshot and that means you guys have something like 11,000 words worth of new content to read. You best enjoy it :P_

_Anyways, I think I'll be putting this story on a short hiatus while I regain my muse. I just need to figure out what will happen next and how to wrap this up, then I'll start posting once every few weeks again._

_By the way, you should all thank the last few reviewers. They're the reasons I got this chapter up this 'early' - they kind of reminded me to get off my butt, you know? Anyways, let me know what you think of this chapter!_


	24. AN - 'Rewrite' Underway - IMPORTANT

So here's the deal, guys.  
This story is almost a year old and at first, I planned on rewriting it. HOWEVER.

This story does have its issues. Like, a lot of them. So here's what I'm going to do:  
1) Save Leila, but make sure that she actually has the personality that I intended for her to have in the first place.  
2) Save some of the plots details and possibly some dialogue.  
3) Get rid of about 1,002 crappy scenes and replace them with decent ones.

I know some of you are going to be upset with me but I've improved as a writer even since putting up that last chapter. I want to do y'all proud, all right?

I'll start this rewrite/spin-offish thing:  
1) After I post the last couple of chapter of "Into the Real World" because I really like the story even though relatively few others do and  
2) After I post the next chapter and oneshot for "Unsolvable".

So here's the deal. What you guys need to do if you want to see the new story is either follow me until I post the 'rewrite' (it's not a rewrite by any means but whatever) and then unfollow me, or I'll just post another update here when the time comes. That being said, I don't want to keep blowing up your emails when I'm not even updating the story.

Sorry it took me so long to come to a decision.


End file.
